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'BRING    BACK  MY   FLOWERS."— P 


age  70. 


THE 


Fifth    Reader 


BY 


/ 

LEWIS  B.  MONROE, 

DEAN  OF   BOSTON   UNIVERSITY  SCHOOL  OF  ORATORY. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
E.    H.    BUTLER    &    CO, 


\1 


38183 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S71,  by 

LEWIS  B.   MONROE 
in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


fWOCOPu :h  '.-gCEIVED. 


CAXTON     PRESS     OF 
SHERMAN     &    CO.,     PHILADELPHIA 


U.VXaVA 


*v   *_     o  n 


£>W 


Preface. 


PERHAPS  the  most  important  book  that  falls  into  the  hands  of  a 
child  is  his  School  Reader.  Its  manifold  themes  tend  to  open 
various  channels  of  thought ;  its  style  of  expression  impresses  itself 
jpon  the  pupil's  mind,  and  has  an  influence  to  mold  his  forms  of 
speech  and  writing;  the  compositions  themselves  are  stored  in  his 
memory  to  recur  a  thousand  times  in  after  life,  —  the  more  dear  for 
being  associated  with  the  cherished  scenes  of  childhood ;  and,  most  of 
all.  the  sentiments  inculcated  become  inevitably  a  part  of  his  moral 
consciousness.  His  rules  of  life,  his  springs  of  action  in  times  which 
test  his  integrity  or  try  his  virtue,  are  in  very  many  instances  traceable 
to  the  seed  which  took  root  in  his  heart  from  the  lessons  in  his 
School  Reader. 

But  these  or  any  other  desirable  ends  to  be  derived  from  such  a 
book  imply,  of  course,  that  its  selections  shall  be  of  the  right  stamp. 
Not  alone  muse  they  inculcate  wholesome  truths,  but  they  must  do 
this  in  a  genial,  attractive  way.  We  must  interest  the  pupil  in  order 
to  benefit  him.  A  pitiful  martyrdom  is  endured  by  teachers  and 
scholars  where  weary  hours  are  spent  in  endeavoring  to  make  chil- 
dren comprehend  abstractions  fit  only  for  the  mind  of  a  Bacon,  or 
to  urge  them  through  intricacies  of  style  which  might  bewilder  a 
Johnson.  If  "  wisdom's  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness."  as  we  surely 
believe,  that  cannot  be  the  wisest  course  which  proves  irksome  and 
repulsive. 

With  these  convictions,  the  endeavor  has  been  made  to  compile  a 
book  which  should,  first  of  all,  be  pure  and  ennobling  in  its  moral  in- 
fluence ;  and  next,  one  which  should  be  both  profitable  and  enjoyable. 

An  elaborate  theoretical  treatise,  with  set  rules  for  reading,  might 
have  been  included  in  the  Introduction,  but  long  experience  and 
observation  have  convinced  the  compiler  that  such  things  are  of  little 
practical  value  in  the  school-room,  and  are  generally  unused  by  the 
most  successful  teachers.  No  number  of  abstract  definitions,  no 
amount  of  mere  theory,  ever  changed  a  poor  reader  to  a  good  one. 


vi  PKEFACE. 

Plain  common  sense  is,  after  all,  the  best  guide.  Whatever  aids  the 
pupil  to  understand  a  piece  will  help  him  to  read  it.  '  Thought  and 
emotion  compel  expression ;  rules  too  often  fetter  it.  Three  things 
<3an  be  done  by  the  teacher  with  advantage  :  give  the  pupils  practical 
exercises  to  increase  their  command  of  voice ;  talk  with  them  in  a 
vvay  to  inspire  them  with  the  spirit  of  what  they  read ;  give  them  a 
<?ood  example.  The  selections  in  the  Introduction,  as  well  as  in  the 
body  of  the  book,  are  intended  to  be  available  for  these  purposes. 

Several  of  the  pieces  for  reading  have  been  written  expressly  for 
this  book,  and  are  protected  by  copyright.  Thanks  are  due  the  vari- 
ous authors  and  publishers  by  whose  kind  permission  extracts  from, 
their  books  have  been  used.  We  are  especially  indebted  to  Messrs. 
James  R.  Osgood  &  Co.  for  liberty  to  use  selections  from  their  copy- 
right editions  of  the  works  of  Whittier,  Longfellow,  Hawthorne, 
Trowbridge,  Aldrich,  and  Saxe. 

L.  B.  M. 

Boston,  June  1,  1871. 


NOTE    TO    TEACHERS. 

In  making  use  of  the  "Exercises"  in  connection  with  the  reading  lessons,  it 
is  not  expected  that  the  pupils  will  always  be  able  to  supply  exact  synonyms. 
The  purpose  is  rather  to  lead  the  pupil  to  think  about  what  he  reads,  and  to 
exercise  his  ingenuity  in  framing  different  forms  of  expression  for  the  idea 
which  exists  in  his  own  mind. 

These  exercises  may  be  indefinitely  extended  at  the  discretion  of  the  teacher. 
Thus:  the  teacher  reads  a  sentence  and  repeats  the  word  whose  sense  he 
wishes  the  pupil  to  give.  Teacher.  "  '  Hew  down  the  bridge,'  —  Heio."  Pupil 
"Cut  down  the  bridge."  Another.  "Chop  down  the  bridge,"  etc.  The  pupil 
is  required  in  every  instance  to  use  his  equivalent  words  in  a  complete  sen- 
tence,—  not  simply  to  repeat  a  formal  definition. 


Contents. 


P  A  E  T     I . 

PHYSICAL  AND  VOCAL  TRAINING-. 

art.  Page 

I.    Position  and  Carriage  of  the  Body 13 

I.  Sitting  Position;  II.  Poise  forward  and  back;  III.  Position 
of  Rest;  IV.  Position  of  Attention;  V.  Standing  Position; 
VI.  Poise  forward  and  backward;  VII.  Holding  the  Book  for 
reading;   VIII.  Speaker's  Position. 

II.    Development  of  the  Chest 19 

I.  Active  and  Passive  Chest;  II.  Percussion  of  the  Chest; 
III.  Chest  Expansion ;  IV.  Percussion  with  Arm  Movements ; 
V.  Shoulder  Movements.  —  Bent  Arms;  VI.  Breathing  with 
Arm  Movements ;  VII.  Deep  Breathing. 

III.  Right  Use  of  the  Voice 22 

I.  Conversational  Tones;  II.  Question  and  Answer;  III.  Famil- 
iar Narrative ;   IV.  Vivacious  Style  of  Poetry. 

IV.  Articulation .24 

I.  Movement  of  the  Lips  and  Jaws;  II.  Articulation  of  Single 
Words;  III.  Articulation  of  Phrases;  IV.  Articulation  of 
Sentences. 

V.     Slides,  or  Inflections .    28 

I.  Falling  Inflections;  IT,  Rising  Inflections;  III.  Rising  and 
Falling  Inflections;   IV.  Circumflex  Inflections. 

VI.    Quality  of  Voice 29 

I.  Whisper;  II.  Half- Whisper,  or  Aspirated  Tone;  III.  Pure 
Tone;  IV.  Orotund. 

VII.    Movement,  or  Rate  of  Utterance 30 

I.  Quick  Movement ;   II.  Moderate ;   III.  Slow. 
VIII.    Force  .    . 32 

I.  Gentle;  II.  Moderate;   III.  Loud;   IV.  Very  Loud. 
IX.     Pitch  of  Voice .33 

I.  High;  II.  Middle;   III.  Low. 


Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


P  A  E  T     II. 


READING    LESSONS. 


I. 

in. 

IV. 

i/    VI. 

—    VIII. 

XII. 

XIV. 

XVI. 

XVIII. 

XXII. 

XXIV. 

XXVI. 

XXVIII. 

XXX. 

XXXII. 

XXXIV. 

XXXVI. 

XXXVIII. 

XL. 

,   XLII. 

v  XLVI. 

XLVIII. 

L. 

LII. 

LIV. 

LVI. 

LVIII. 

LX. 

LXII. 

LXIV. 

LXVI. 

LXVIII. 

LXX. 

LXXII. 

LXXIV. 

LXXVI. 

lXXVIII. 

LXXX. 

LXXXII. 

LXXXIV. 

LXXXVI. 

LXXXVIII. 


PROSE. 

The  Fish  I  did  n't  catch     .     .    .     .    J.  G    Whittier     .      37 

Stoning  the  Frogs Jacob  Abbott    .     .      40 

Stoning  the  Frogs.     Part  Second .     .    Jacob  Abbott    .     .      44 

The  Truth  Speaker Miss  Crompton     .      48 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh  and  his  two  Plants 53 

The  Capture  of  Quebec S.  G.  Goodrich     .      63 

Haying II.  W.  Beecher    .      67 

The  Boston  Massacre N.  Hawthorne .     .      71 

Mr  Hunt  after  the  Baby    ....     Helen  L.  Boslwick      75 

The  Scotch  Woman  and  her  two  Sons 85 

Once  well  done,  Twice  done  .     .     .     L.  A.  B.  Curtis    .      88 

Adventure  with  a  Whale 92 

Malibran  and  the  Young  Musician 95 

Rehearsing  for  Christmas  .  .  .  .  L.  M.  Alcott  .  .  100 
The  Farmer  and  the  Fox  .  .  .  .  J.  A.  Fronde  .  .  104 
Eloquence  of  Patrick  Henry  ...      W.  Wirt     .     .     .     107 

Art  and  Artists 110 

The  Practical  Joker Theodore  Hook     .     114 

Ladd  and  his  Neighbor 117 

Capture  of  Ticonderoga Bancroft     .     .    .    120 

The  Persian  and  his  Tiikee  Sons 126 

129 
131 
134 
137 
141 
148 
151 
156 
160 
163 


The  Brook Krilof    .     .     . 

Using  the  Eyes Samuel  Smiles 

A  Gigantic  Iceberg  .......    E.  H  Dana     . 

The  American  Indian diaries  Sprague 

The  Cruise  of  the  Dolphin     .     .     .     T.  B.  Aldrich 

The  Town  Pump N.  Hawthorne 

The  Tea  Rose H  B.  Stowe    . 

The  Unknown  Painter 

Boys'  Country  Amusements.     .     .     .    A.  R.  Hope 

Earning  Enjoyment Fanny  Fern    . 

The  Heroine  of  Edinburgh 165 

How  the  Giant  was  caught  .  .  .  T.  S.  Arthur  .  .  169 
Squire  Bull  and  Brother  Jonathan  J.  K.  Paulding  .  174 
Intelligence  of  the  Elephant  .  .  T.  TV.  Higginson  178 
Androcles  and  the  Lion      ....     Thomas  Day    .     .     184 

The  Earth's  Journey  round  the  Sun 189 

Tom  Brown  starting  for  Rugby      .     T.  Hughes  .     .     .    192 

Health 198 

The  Champion  Speller Warren  Burton    .    201 

Buttercups  and  Daisies 206 

A  Revolutionary  Hero  in  the  Pulpit  Samuel  Burnham     213 


CONTENTS. 


IX 


XC. 

XCII. 

XCIV. 

k  XCVI. 

XCVIII. 

c. 

CII. 

/civ. 

cvr. 

cviii. 

y  ex. 

CXIII. 

cxv. 

cxvn. 

cxix. 

cxxn. 

cxxiv. 

CXXVIII. 

exxx. 


II. 

V. 

VII. 

IX. 

XI. 

XIII. 

XV. 

XVII. 

XIX. 

XXI. 

XXIII. 

XXV. 

XXVII. 

XXIX. 

XXXI. 

XXXIII. 

XXXV. 

XXXVII. 

XXXIX. 

XLI. 

XLIII. 

XLV. 

XLVII. 

XLIX. 

LV. 

LVII. 


The  Battle  of  Lexington Bancroft          ,    .  219 

An  Object  Lesson Charles  Dickens  .  223 

The  Bobolink W.  Irving  ...  228 

The  Emperor's  New  Clothes     .     .     .     Hans  Ch.  Andersen  233 

Return  of  British  Fugitives,  1782     .    Patrick  Htnry  238 

The  Cricket  on  the  Hearth      .     .     .     Charles  Dickens  .  243 

Birds 250 

Heroism  of  a  Miner Thomas  Carlyle  .  253 

Snow  Power H.  W.  Beecher     .  256 

A  Man  Overboard J.  T.  Headley      .  262 

First  Grenadier  of  France 267 

Death  of  Little  Paul Charles  Dickens  .  275 

The  Bell  of  Liberty J.  T.  Headley  .    .  280 

A  Search  after  Happiness     ....    Joseph  C.  Neal     .  285 

Morning  Visits Dr.  Nares  ...  292 

The  Irish  Disturbance  Bill  ....     Daniel  0"  Connell  298 
The  Fate  of  European  Kings    .     .     .     Thomas  F.  Meagher  302 

An  Appeal  to  Arms Patrick  Henry     .  307 

"  Press  on." 312 

POETRY, 

The  Fly  and  the  Leaflet 39 

The  Day  is  Done        H.  W.  Longfellow  47 

Come  and  go R.  S.  Sharpe  .     .  52 

Hiawatha's  Hunting II.   IV.  Longfellow  55 

The  Milkmaid Jeffreys  Taylor    .  61 

The  Chameleon Merrick      ...  64 

Bring  back  my  Flowers 70 

Song  from  the  Suds L.  M  Alcolt    .    .  74 

The  Fishermen J.  G    Whittier     .  79 

Some  murmur  when  their  Sky  is  clear  Dean  Trench  .     .  84 

Short  Extracts  in  Verse 87 

The  Swallow  and  her  Nest.     .     .     .    R.  S.  S.  Andros  .  91 

Nothing  lost 94 

The  Charcoal-Man          J.  T.  Trowbridge  98 

The  Giant Charles  Mackay  .  103 

The  Voice  and  Pen D.  F.  McCarthy  .  106 

The  Discovery  of  America    .     .    .    .    J.  T.  Trowbridge  109 

War  Song James  G.  Percival  113 

George  Nidiver 115 

The  Burial  of  Moses C.  T.  Alexander  .  118 

A  Bird's  Nest Florence  Percy    .  121 

The  Glove  and  the  Lions Leigh  Hunt     .     .-  124 

The  Miller  of  the  Dee Chaises  Mnckay  .  128 

The  Retort 130 

Fidelity W.  Wordsworth    .  139 

Farmer  John J.  T   Trowbridge  146 


X  CONTENTS. 

LIX.  The  Birthday  of  Spring Horace  Smith  .     .  149 

LXI.  The  Archery  of  William  Tell   .  W.  Baine    ...  154 

LXIII.  An  April  Day .    .    .  158 

LXV  The  Moss  Rose Krummacher  .     .  162 

LXV1I.  Warren's  Address John  Pierpont .     .  164 

LXIX.  The  Old  Year  and  the  New   .     .     .  A.  Tennyson    .     .  168 

LXXI.  The  Lark  and  the  Nightingale  .     .  Coleridge    ...  173 

LXXIII.  No  Work  the  Hardest  Work  ...  C.  F.  Orne      .     .177 

LXXV.  Bluebeard J,  G.  Holland  .     .  180 

LXXVII.  Solomon  and  the  Bees J.  G.  Saxe  ...  187 

LXXiX.  Oyer  the  Hill  . Geo.  Mac  Donald .  191 

LXXXI.  The  Knight's  Toast 196 

LXXXYv  Cheers  and  Tears R.  H.  Newell  .     .  204 

LXXXVII.  The  Streamlet J.  T.  Tiowbridge  209 

LXXXIX.  Nothing  to  wear W,  A.  Butler  .     .  218 

XCV.  Marco  Bozzaris F.  G.  Halkck .     .  231 

XCVII.  Birds  and  Bees H.  Hurdis    ...  237 

CI.  The  Keeping  of  the  Bridge    ...  T.  B.  Macaulay  .  246 

CIJI.  Giye  me  the  People      ......  Charles  Sicain     .  253 

CV.  Glad  Chimes B.  P.  Shillaber    .  254 

CVII  The  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill    .     .     .  F.  S.  Cozzem  .     .  259 

CIX.  Douglas  and  Marmion Walter  Scott    .     .  265 

CXI.  The  Sunbeam Mrs,  Hemans  .     .  271 

CXI  I  Home  Happiness John  Clare      .     .  273 

CXIV.  Edinburgh  after  Flodden    ....  W.  E .  Aytoun .     .  277 

CXVI.  Minot  s  Ledge Fitz-JamesO' Brien  283 

CXV1II.  Barbara  Frietchie J.  G.   Whittier     .  290 

CXX.  The  Hunteks Matthew  Arnold  295 

CXX1.  Life  without  Freedom T.  Moore   .    .     .  297 

CXXIII  King  Canute IV.  M.  Thackeray  300 

CXXVr.  Columbus Aitlur  HuyhCloughZMt 

CXX VI  Claribel M.  L.  Pavmelee  .  305 

CXX VII.  Morning  Sounds     ........  James  Beattie      .  306 

CXXIX.  The  Gray  Swan Alice  Cary  ...  310 


DIALOGUES    AND    CONCERT-READINGS. 

X.     In  Want  of  a  Place      .     .     .     .     .     .     G.  W.  Curtis  .     .  58 

XX.     The  King  and  the  Miller  of  Mansfield  Dodsley  ....  81 

XLIV.     The  Return  of  Columbus      ....     Vinet     ....  123 

LI.     Fitz-James  and  Eoderick  Dhu       .     .     Walter  Scott  .     .  133 

LIU.     Hymn  of  the  Mountaineers      .     .     .     Mrs.  Hemans.     .  136 

LX.     The  Tea-Eose H.  B.  Stoive    .     .  151 

LXXXIII.     Clear  the  Way Charles  Mackay  200 

XCI.     David  and  Goliath Hannah  More     ■  221 

XCIII.     The  Life-Boat 226 

XCIX.     The  Watcher  on  the  Tower     .     .     .     Charles  Mackay .  241 

EXPLANATORY  NOTES  .-•--.---..... 313 


( ^ 


PART 


"  Deem  it  not  trifling  while  I  recommend 

What  posture  suits :   to  stand  and  sit  by  turns, 
As  nature  prompts,  is  best ;   but  o'er  your  leaves 
To  lean,  for  ever  cramps  the  vital  parts, 
And  robs  the  fine  machinery  of  its  play." 

Armstrong. 


Physical  mdVocal  Tbaining. 


POSITION  AND  CARRIAGE  OF  THE  BODY. 

IN  reading  aloud,  the  bodily  attitude  is  the  first  thing  that 
requires  attention.  When  a  pupil  stands  up  to  read,  we 
may  judge  beforehand  what  will  be  the  character  of  his  per- 
formance by  the  position  assumed.  The  timid  posture,  with 
bent  spine  and  contracted  chest,  will  be  accompanied  by  a 
feeble  drawl :  and  the  awkward,  indifferent  attitude  will  pre- 
cede a  hard,  unsympathetic  tone  of  voice,  or  mumbling  utter- 
ance ;  while  from  one  who  takes  an  attitude  of  dignity  and 
self-respect  we  may  look  for  that  honest  and  earnest  effort ' 
which  insures  progress  and  improvement.  The  pupil  should 
therefore  secure  a  good  position  as  a  habit  whenever  he  is 
using  his  voice. 

All  the  muscles  used  in  producing  voice  must  act  with  ease 
and  elasticity  ;  and  this  comes  from  the  right  kind  of  practice 
or  exercise.  No  one  will  do  his  best  who,  through  laziness, 
negligence,  or  ignorance,  allows  the  vocal  machinery  to  become 
enfeebled  and  ineffective.  In  fact,  the  influence  of  physical 
conditions  extends  even  to  the  mental  and  moral  habit.  We 
shall  therefore  have  more  vivacious,  intelligent,  and  expressive 
reading  where  proper  care  is  taken  with  regard  to  the  manage- 
ment of  the  body. 

A  few  moments  at  every  session  should  be  devoted  to  drill  in 
the  physical  and  vocal  exercises.  They  are  not  all  required  in 
any  one  lesson,  but  a  judicious  use  of  them  at  proper  intervals 
will  greatly  improve  the  carriage  of  the  body,  expand  the  chest, 
and  give  freedom  to  the  voice. 

The  drill  should  always  be  carried  on  in  a  cheerful  and 


14 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


buoyant  spirit.  It  must  never  be  allowed  to-  degenerate  into  a 
dull  and  lifeless  routine. 

See  that  the  air  of  the  school-room  is  pure  before  taking  up 
any  exercise.  Neither  teacher  nor  pupils  can  work  to  advan- 
tage in  a  vitiated  atmosphere. 

In  conducting  the  drill,  give  but  one  command  at  a  time  ; 
and  NEVER  GIVE  A  second  till  the  first  is  obeyed. 

I.   Sitting  Position. 

1.  Rest  the  feet  fully  on  the  floor,  forming  an  angle  of  sixty 
degrees. 

2.  Sit  (not  lean)  as  far  back  in  the  seat  as  possible ;  sup- 
porting the  lower  part  of  the  spine  against  the  back  of  the 
chair. 

3.  Knees  bent   nearly  at  a 
right  angle. 

4.  Body  square  to  the  front. 

5.  Chest  expanded. 
G.   Hands  fall   easily  in  the 

lap,  little  fingers  downward. 

7.  Shoulders  square. 

8.  Shoulder-blades  flat. 

9.  Head  erect ;  not  tipped  in 
either  direction. 

10.  Chin  slightly  drawn  in. 

11.  Raise    the    form  to  the 
fall  height. 

12.  Poise  the  body  slightly 
forward. 

13.  Eyes  straight  to  the  front. 

14.  Ear,  shoulder,  and  hip  in  line. 

These  particulars  should  be  taught  carefully,  one  at  a  time. 
After  they  are  once  learned,  it  is  sufficient  for  the  teacher  to 
give  simply  the  words  of  command,  which  should  be  obeyed 
with  military  promptness. 

This  position  should  be  frequently  practiced  as  an  exercise ; 
but  pupils  should  be  required  to  remain  in  it  only  a  few  min- 
utes at  a  time.  The  younger  the  scholars,  the  oftener  should 
they  be  allowed  to  change  their  position. 

Words  of  command  :  Ready  !  —  Position  ! 


SITTING  POSITION. 


POSITION  AND  CARRIAGE  OF  THE   BODY. 


15 


POISE  FORWARD  AND  BACK 


II.   Poise  forward  and  back. 

First    Incline  slowly  forward  thirty  degrees,  or  till  touching 
the    desk    in    front,  —  without 
drooping  the  head  or  bending 
the  spine. 

Second.  Steadily  return  to 
position. 

Third.  Incline  the  body 
steadily  backward  thirty  de- 
grees, or  as  far  as  the  back  of 
the  chair  will  admit,  without 
bending  the  neck  or  back. 

Fourth.  Slowly  return  to  po- 
sition. 

The  teacher  may  regulate  the 
exercise  by   counting  in   exact  ^ 
time  four  to  each  movement. 

This  exercise  is  designed  to 
accustom  the  pupil  to  incline   the   body  forward  or  backward 
without  contracting  the  chest,  —  thus  allowing  the  breathing 
and  vocal  organs  freedom  of  action. 

Words  of  command  :  Poise  forward  !  —  Position  !  —  Back- 
ward ) — Position. 

III.   Position  of  Rest. 

Easily  relax  ftie  muscles  and  lean 
against  the  back  of  the  chair. 

In  conducting  physical  exercises, 
whenever  the  teacher's  attention  is 
diverted  from  the  class  as  a  whole, 
to  give  instruction  to  individuals,  or 
for  any  other  purpose,  the  class 
should  be  directed  to  "rest."  This 
position  is  also  that  of  passive  at- 
tention. 

Any  other  posture  which  is  grace- 
ful and  favorable  to  health  may  be 
substituted  for  this.  But  awkward 
or  unheal thful  attitudes  should  not 
be  permitted  in  the  school-room. 

Word  of  command  :  Rest  I 


POSITION   OP  REST 


16 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


POSITION   OF  ATTENTION 


IV.   Position  of  Attention. 

Poise  the  body  slightly  for- 
ward, and  rest  the  fore-arms 
lightly  on  the  desk,  supporting 
the  book  with  both  hands.  In- 
cline the  book  backward  about 
thirty  degrees. 

In  case  the  pupils  have  no 
desks,  the  book  is  held  as  in 
the  "  Reading  Position,"  with 
one  or  both  hands  at  intervals. 
Frequent  opportunities  for  rest 
must  be  allowed  when  there  is 
no  support  for  the  arms. 

This  position  is  required  in 
concert-reading  when  practiced 
with  the  pupils  seated  ;  and  it  is  the  posture  of  attention  for  the 
class  daring  the  reading  of  the  teacher,  and  of  single  pupils. 
Words  of  command  :  Take  the  books  !  —  Attention  ! 

V.   Standing  Position. 

1.  Heels  in  a  line,  and  together. 

2.  Feet  turned  equally  outward,  form- 
ing an  angle  of  sixty  degrees. 

3.  Knees  straight. 

4.  Body  square  to  the  front. 

5.  Chest  expanded  and  advanced,  but 
without  constraint. 

6.  Arms  hang  easily  at  the  side. 

7.  Shoulders  equal  height. 

8.  Shoulder-blades  flat. 

9.  Head  erect,  raised  at  the  crown, 
not  tipped  in  any  direction. 

10.  Chin  slightly  drawn  in. 

11.  Form  raised  to  the  full  height. 

12.  Body  poised  slightly  forward,  so 
that  the  weight  bears  mainly  on  the 
ball  of  the  foot. 

STANDING  POSITION.  J  3        Eyeg   straight   tO   the   froilt 

14.    Whole  figure  in  such  a  position  that    the  ear,  shoulder, 
hip,  knee,  and  ankle  are  all  in  a  line. 


POSITION   AND   CARRIAGE   OF   THE    BODY. 


17 


The  position  as  a  whole  gives  the  impres- 
sion of  graceful  ease  combined  with  firmness 
and  self-respect. 

Many  individuals  are  unable  to  fulfill  all 
these  conditions  in  their  first  efforts.  They 
must  perseveringly  practice  day  by  day,  in 
connection  with  the  exercises  given  subse- 
quently, until  they  have  overcome  the  diffi- 
culties. 

Xo  pains  should  be  spared  to  get  this 
position  exactly ;  and  the  pupil  should  be 
required  to  observe  its  main  points  when- 
ever he  stands  to  read  or  recite,  in  order  to 
establish  as  a  habit  an  erect  and  dignified 
carriage  of  the  body. 

Weak  children  need  to  be  particularly 
cautioned  against  stooping  the  shoulders, 
contracting  the  chest,  making  the  back  too 
hollow,  and  drooping  the  head. 

Words  of  command  :  Prepare  to  stand  ! 
—  Stand  !  —  Position  ! 


STANDING  POSITION. — 
FRONT  VIEW. 


VI.   Poise  forward  and  backward. 

First.  Carry  the  weight  of  the  body 
as  far  forward  as  possible,  without  lift- 
ing the  heels  or  bending  the  spine.  The 
ankle  joint  yields,  but  the  other  joints 
remain  inflexible. 

Second.    Return  steadily  to  position. 

Third.  Carry  the  weight  of  the  body 
as  far  back  as  possible,  so  as  to  bear 
mainly  on  the  heels,  but  without  lifting 
the  toes.     Spine  and  joints  inflexible. 

Fourth.    Return  steadily  to  position. 

Four  counts  to  each  movement. 

This  strengthens  the  muscles  which 
sustain  the  body  in  a  standing  position, 
and  gives  firmness  upon  the  feet. 

.Words  of  command  :  Poise  forward  ! 
—  Position  i — Backward  !  —  Position  ! 


POISE    FORWARD    AND    BACKWARD 


18 


THE  FIFTH   READER. 


VII.   Holding  the  Book  for  reading. 


READER'S  POSITION. 


Hold  the  book  open  in  the  left 
hand,  with  three  fingers  beneath  it, 
and  the  thumb  and  little  finger 
above,  to  keep  the  leaf  down. 

Advance  the  elbow  a  few  inches, 
and  raise  the  fore-arm  from  thirty 
to  forty-five  degrees,  so  as  to  secure 
perfect  vision  without  bending  the 
neck  or  body. 

If  necessary,  depress  the  plane  of 
the  book  so  as  not  to  hide  the  face. 

The  eye  must  be  trained  to  catch 
the  words  in  advance  of  the  utter- 
ance ;  so  that  the  reader  can  look  off 
the  book  occasionally.  Looking  down 
too  much  upon  the  page  causes  the 
voice  to  be  directed  to  the  book,  in- 
stead of  being  sent  out  into  the  room. 


VIII.   Speaker's  Position. 

Throw  the  weight  of  the  body  firm- 
ly on  the  left  foot,  and  advance  the 
right  foot  about  three  inches,  allow- 
ing it  to  rest  lightly,  with  the  knee 
a  little  bent. 

Reverse  this  position  by  throwing 
the  weight  on  the  right  foot,  and 
leaving  the  left  easily  advanced. 

A  line  dropped  through  the  front 
of  the  neck  will  fall  on  the  instep  of 
the  supporting  foot.  A  line  drawn 
lengthwise  through  the  center  of  the 
advanced  foot  passes  through  the  heel 
of  the  other. 
r_i.         Words    of    command  :    Speaker's 

position,  weight    on    the    right 

foot  !  —  On  the  left  ! 


speaker's  position. 


DEVELOPMENT   OF   THE   CHEST. 


19 


II. 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  CHEST. 

I.   Active  and  Passive  Chest. 

STANDING  position. 
First.    Relax  the  muscles  and  allow  the 
chest  to  fall  listlessly,  as  if  fatigued.     This  is 
the  passive  chest. 

Second.  Elevate  and  expand  the  chest  in 
a  position  of  dignity  and  self-reliance,  some- 
what as  if  defying  a  blow.  This  is  the  active 
chest. 

This  exercise  should  be  simply  muscular, 
and  not  depend  upon  the  breathing. 

The  habit  should  be  established  of  keeping, 
without  constraint,  the  active  chest  in  stand- 
ing, walking,  running,  and  whenever  using 
the  voice,  —  as  in  reading,  declaiming,  and 
■singing. 

Words  of  command  :  Chest  —  passive  !  — 
Active  ! 


ACTIVE  CHEST. 


II.   Percussion  of  the  Chest. 

Place  the  hands  on  the 
chest  with  the  forefingers 
just  below  the  collar-bones, 
fore-arms  horizontal.  Take 
a  deep  inspiration  through 
the  nostrils.  Hold  the 
breath. 

First.  Strike  on  the  chest 
rapid  percussive  blows  with 
the  flat  of  the  fingers ;  the  wrists  slack.     Time,  four  counts. 

Second.  Give  out  the  breath  through  the  nostrils,  —  two 
counts.    Inhale  a  deep  breath,  —  two  counts.     Repeat  from  first. 

Percussion  may  also  be  practiced  upon  other  parts  of  the 
chest.  This  has  effect  in  expanding  the  lungs,  forcing  the  air 
into  cells  imperfectly  filled  in  ordinary  breathing. 


PERCUSSION  OF  THE  CHEST. 


20 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


The  blows  must  be  light  and  gentle  for  the  first  few  weeks  of 
practice ;  and  may  be  gradually  increased  in  force,  but  must 
never  be  rigid  and  jarring. 

Words  of  command :  Hands  upon  the  chest — place! — Full 
breath  !  —  Percussion  !  —  One,  two,  three,  four.    (Repeat.) 

III.   Chest  Expansion. 

Elbows  sharply  bent  and  close  to 
the  side ;  fore-arm  horizontal ;  fists 
clenched  palms  upward.  Take  a  deep 
inspiration.     Hold  the  breath. 

First.  Extend  the  arms  full  length 
forward,  relaxing  the  muscles  and 
opening  the  hands,  palms  downward. 

Second.  Bring  the  arms  energetic- 
ally back  to  their  former  position, 
endeavoring  to  expand  the  chest  as 
much  as  possible. 

Third.     Expel  the  breath   through 
the    nostrils,  —  two    counts  ;    take    a   fresh    inspiration,  —  two  . 
counts  ;    and  repeat  from  first  movement. 

Words  of  command  :  Arms  bent  at  the  side  —  place  !  — 
Full  breath  !  —  One,  two,  etc. 


CHEST   EXPANSION. 


PERCUSSION  WITH   ARM  MOVE- 
MENTS. 


IV.    Percussion  with  Arm  Movements. 

The  hands  fall  easily  at  the  side.  Take 
a  full  breath. 

First.  Swing  the  arms  from  the  shoul- 
der alternately,  with  slack  joints,  giving 
elastic  blows  upon  the  lungs,  striking 
with  the  flat  of  the  fingers  just  below 
the  collar-bone.  The  right  hand  strikes 
upon  the  left  lung,  and  the  left  hand 
upon  the  right  lung.  Give  two  blows 
with  each  hand. 

Second.    Exhale  and  inhale  the  breath 
as  in  the  preceding  exercises. 

Words  of  command  :  With  arm  move- 
ments!— Full  breath! — One,  two,  etc. 


DEVELOPMENT   OF   THE   CHEST. 


21 


V.  Shoulder  Movements.  —  Bent  Arms. 
Clenched  fists  at  the  side  of  the  shoul- 
ders, palms  forward,  fore-arms  vertical. 

First.  Bring  the  open  hands,  palms  in- 
ward, so  as  to  touch  each  othex  about  three 
inches  in  front  of  the  chin. 

Second.  Throw  the  fore-arms  back  to  the 
side  as  in  the  commencing  position,  fists 
clenched,  palms  outward.  —  Repeat. 

Third.    Change  the  breath. 

Words  of  command  :  Fore-arms  verti- 
cal —  place  !  —  One,  two,  eta 

VI.  Breathing  with  Arm  Movements. 

First.  Bring  the  tips  of  the  fin- 
gers to  the  shoulders,  inhaling  the 
breath  through  the  nostrils  at  the 
same  time. 

Second,  Strike  downward  and  for- 
ward, clenching  the  fists  with  palms 
front,  and  expelling  the  breath 
through  the  nostrils  with  the  move- 
ment. 

The  breath  must  be  expelled  by 
the  action  of  the  diaphragm  and  its 
auxiliary  muscles  of  the  waist  and 
abdomen.  This  will  naturally  be 
the  case  if  the  pupil  makes  a  deci- 
sive motion  of  the  arms  and  clenches 
the  fists. 

Words  of  command  :    Touch  the 

SHOULDERS  PLACE  !    BREATHE  ! 


SHOULDER  MOVEMENTS. 


BREATHING  WITH   ARM  MOVEMENTS 


(Six  times.) 

VII.   Deep  Breathing. 

First  Inhale  a  deep  breath  slowly  and  tranquilly  through 
the  nostrils,  taking  care  not  to  raise  the  shoulders. 

Second.  Give  out  the  breath  tranquilly  through  the  nostrils, 
holding  the  chest  expanded  with  easy  firmness. 

Words  of  command  :  Ixhale  !  —  Expel  !    (Repeat.) 


22  THE   FIFTH   READER. 


III. 


RIGHT  USE  OF  THE  VOICE. 

THE  sentences  in  the  last  part  of  this  chapter  are  given  as 
exercises  to  be  spoken  with  the  tone  of  pleasant  conversa- 
tion ;  and  this  implies  speaking  to  some  one,  not  merely  recit- 
ing the  words.  The  pupil  should  look  at  the  person  addressed 
with  a  cheerful  expression  of  countenance.  Any  contraction  of 
the  brows  or  distressed  expression  of  the  face  is  almost  sure  to 
be  accompanied  by  a  bad  tone  of  voice. 

The  teacher  may  speak  the  sentences  first,  to  be  imitated ; 
or  any  pupil  who  has  a  sweet  intonation  and  natural  sprightli- 
ness  of  manner  may  give  the  examples.  Minor  faults  of  artic- 
ulation are  to  be  disregarded  in  this  exercise. 

Such  practice  is  not  to  be  abandoned  until  every  boy  and 
girl  speaks  habitually  in  pleasant,  conversational  tones.  And 
the  work  is  not  finally  completed  until  the  customary  tone  in 
reading  and  recitation  is  that  of  intelligence  and  refinement. 
Good  taste  in  speech  is  as  much  called  for  in  the  school-room  as 
in  the  pulpit  or  parlor ;  and  indeed  more,  for  it  is  here  that  the 
habits  are  formed  which  stamp  and  influence  all  the  future 
career. 

Great  pains  may  be  bestowed  upon  a  reading-lesson ;  if  the 
pupils  are  allowed  to  drift  back  into  faulty  habits  the  moment 
any  other  recitation  is  taken  up,  the  work  is  in  a  great  measure 
lost. 

But  it  is  not  the  voice  alone  that  suffers.  The  humdrum 
style  of  reading  tends  to  stultify  the  intelligence.  The  habit  of 
calling  words  monotonously,  without  attaching  any  meaning  to 
them,  retards  or  renders  next  to  impossible  progress  in  the  va- 
rious studies.  Take  arithmetic,  for  example.  The  pupil  should 
be  required  to  state  his  question  with  intelligent  expression. 
It  will  be  time  gained  to  him  as  a  mathematician.  Suppose 
him  about  to  try  a  problem  which  he  reads  in  a  high-pitched, 
hard,  unvarying,  stumbling  manner,  like  this  (as  far  as  it  can 
be  suggested  to  the  eye)  :  — 

"Two-lo-lo  —  Two -lo-c'motives- start  —  si-si  —  sime-tay  — 
(Teacher   prompts   sharply  :    Start    simultaneously)  —  starts  - 


RIGHT   USE  OF  THE   VOICE.  23 

ime'tarnously  —  Two  -  lo-c'moti ves  -  starts  -  I'm  -  famously  —  • 
one  at  -  Butt-lo  —  the  oth'rat  —  Alb'ny  —  three  -  hun'  twent'  - 
five  miles  -  part  — "  Is  it  not  a  waste  of  time  for  him  to  pro- 
ceed further  till  he  has  learned  to  read,  or  till  he  does  read 

INTELLIGENTLY  1 

And  so  in  other  studies,  the  amount  of  thought  exercised 
may  be  determined  by  the  quality  of  voice  used. 

Sweet  tones  are  the  natural  clothing  of  fresh  and  beautiful 
ideas.  The  conversational  quality  of  voice  is  the  basis  of  all 
excellence  in  reading.  What  is  known  as  the  "school-tone" 
should  be  banished  at  once  and  forever  from  the  school-room. 

I.   Conversational  Tones. 

1.  Good  morning! — How  do  you  do? — Very  well,  I  thank 
you, — how  do  you  do? 

It  is  a  pleasant  day.  —  Yes,  very  pleasant.  —  Do  you  think 
it  will  rain  to-day? — Well,  no;  I  think  we  shall  have  sunshine 
all  day.  —  I  hope  we  shall,  for  I  wish  to  take  a  walk. 

2.  "O,  see  those  humming-birds!  "-— "  Where  are  they?  Ah! 
I  see  one  now;  it  is  the  ruby-throat.  See  how  his  throat  glit- 
ters !"  — " Shall  we  try  to  catch  it?"  —  "No,  I  would  rather 
look  at  it." 

3.  Just  see!  this  is  a  slender  pea-vine!  It  is  now  shooting 
out  its  green  leaves.    Soon  we  shall  have  a  garden. 

n.   Question  and  Answer. 

1.  A  boy  who  had  forty  cents  gave  away  ten  cents;  how 
many  cents  had  he  remaining  ? — Ten  cents  from  forty  cents 
leaves  thirty  cents ;  therefore  he  had  thirty  cents  remaining. 

2.  What  ocean  lies  east  of  the  United  States?  —  The  Atlan- 
tic Ocean. 

3.  When  and  by  whom  was  America  discovered?  —  By  Chris- 
topher Columbus,  in  the  year  1492. 

4.  In  the  sentence  "  John  reads  naturally,"  which  is  the  sub- 
ject and  which  is  the  predicate?  —  "John"  is  the  subject,  and 
"  reads  naturally  "  is  the  predicate. 


24  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

III.   Familiar  Narrative. 

1.  When  I  was  a  young  man,  I  went  upon  a  whaling  voyage, 
I  will  tell  you  how  whales  are  caught. 

2.  Whenever  Jane  saw  a  tuft  of  moss,  she  said,  "  Please,  dear 
moss,  may  I  take  you?"  And  when  she  saw  a  beautiful  branch 
with  scarlet  leaves,  she  said,  "Dear  bush,  may  I  take  these 
leaves  % " 

3.  The  kettle  began  it !  Don't  tell  me  what  Mrs.  Peerybin- 
gle  said.  I  know  better.  Mrs.  Peerybingle  may  leave  it  on 
record  till  the  end  of  time,  that  she  could  n't  say  which  of  them 
began  it ;  but  I  say  the  kettle  did.     I  ought  to  know,  I  hope. 

IV.  Vivacious  Style  of  Poetry. 

1.  Cheerily,  then,  my  little  man, 
Live  and  laugh,  as  boyhood  can. 

2.  0  the  Spring,  the  bountiful  Spring ! 
She.shineth  and  smileth  on  everything. 

3.  Ho,  ho  !  ha,  ha  !  the  merry  fire  ! 
It  sputters  and  it  crackles  ! 

Snap,  snap  !  flash,  flash  !  old  oak  and  ash 
Send  out  a  million  sparkles. 


IV. 

ARTICULATION. 

ARTICULATION  is  effected  by  the  action  of  the  lips, 
tongue,  palate,  and  jaws.  In  order  that  articulation 
may  be  perfect,  there  must  be  a  prompt,  neat,  and  easy  action 
of  these  organs.  When  they  move  feebly  or  clumsily,  the  ar- 
ticulation is  indistinct  or  mumbling.  An  elastic  play  of  the 
muscles  of  the  mouth  is  necessary,  not  only  for  distinctness 
of  utterance,  but  for  the  expressiveness  of  the  face. 

The  following  exercises  will  aid  to  discipline  the  muscles  used 
in  articulation,,  and  accustom  them  to  energetic  action.     After 


ARTICULATION. 


a  vigorous  tone  has  been  given  to  these  muscles,  their  move- 
ments in  utterance  must  not  be  excessive,  or  too  apparent  to 
the  eye. 


I.   Movement  of  the  Lips  and  Jaws. 

First.  Pronounce  the  vowel  e,  extending  the  lips  as  much  as 
possible  side  wise,  and  showing  the  tips  of  the  teeth. 

Second.  Pronounce  ah,  dropping  the  jaw  and  opening  the 
mouth  to  its  widest  extent. 

Third.    Pronounce  oo  (as  in  cool),  contracting  the  lips. 

Then,  the  teacher  having  drawn  upon  the  blackboard  a  tri- 
angle with  the  three  sounds  indicated  at  the  angles,  let  him 
pass  the  "pointer"  around  in  a  circle,  touching  at  the  angles, 
and  require  the  pupils  to  utter  the  vowels,  as  he  indicates 
them,  in  rapid  succession,  continuously,  that  is,  without  paus- 


26  THE  FIFTH  READEK. 

ing  between  them.     Having  gone  around  three  or  four  times  in 
one  direction,  make  a  signal  for  the  pupils  to  stop ;  then  taking 

E 


a  fresh  breath,  reverse  the  exercise.  Proceed  in  like  manner, 
taking  each  of  the  other  angles  as  a  starting-point.  We  shall 
thus  have  repetitions  of  each  of  the  following  :  E-ah-oo ;  e-oo-ah; 
ah-e-oo  ;  ah-oo-e  ;  oo-ah-e  ;  oo-e-ah. 

After  the  above  has  been  practiced  for  a  minute  or  two,  exer- 
cises like  the  following  may  be  taken  up  immediately.  The 
teacher  pronounces  one  word  at  a  time  with  the  utmost  pre- 
cision, and  requires  the  pupils  to  repeat  with  an  exaggerated 
movement  of  the  lips  and  jaws.  Next,  phrases,  and  finally 
complete  sentences,  are  uttered ;  great  care  being  taken  to  give 
elastic  spring  and  play  to  the  muscles  of  articulation.  The  one 
injunction  which  needs  to  be  enforced  upon  the  mumbler  is, 

OPEN    THE    MOUTH    AND    MOVE    THE    LIPS. 

II.   Articulation  of  Single  Words. 

1.  I  .  .  know  .  .  of .  .  no  .  .  way  .  .  of  .  .  judging  .  .  of .  .  the 
future  .  .  but  .  .  by  .  .  the  past. 

2.  0  .  .  sun  !  .  .  thou  .  .  comest .  .  forth  .  .  in  .  .  thy  .  .  awful  .  . 
beauty,  .  .  and  .  .  the  stars  .  .  hide  .  .  themselves  .  .  in  .  .  the 
sky. 

3.  Are  .  ,  fleets  .  .  and  .  .  armies  . .  necessary  ..  to  ...  a  work 
> .  of . .  love  . .  and  .  .  reconciliation  % 


ARTICULATION.  27 

III.   Articulation  of  Phrases. 

1.  In  every  period  of  life  .  .  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  .  . 
is  one  of  the  most  pleasing  employments  .  .  of  the  human  mind. 

2.  x\n  old  clock  .  .  that  had  stood  for  fifty  years  .  .  in  a  farm- 
er's kitchen  .  .  without  giving  its  owner  .  .  any  cause  of  com- 
plaint, .  .  early  one  summer's  morning  .  .  before  the  family  was 
stirring  .  .  suddenly  stopped. 

3.  Hark  !  .  .  hark  to  the  robin  !  .  .  its  magical  call  .  . 

Awakens  the  flowerets  .  .  that  slept  in  the  dells ;  .  . 
The  snow-drop,  .  .  the  primrose,  . .  the  hyacinth,  .  .  all 

Attune  at  the  summons  .  .  their  silvery  bells.  .  . 
Hush  !  .  .  ting-a-ring-ting  ! .  .  don't  you  hear  how  they  sing  1 . . 

They  are  pealing  a  fairy -like  welcome  .  .  to  Spring. 

IV.   Articulation  of  Sentences. 

1.  The  greater  the  difficulty,  the  more  glory  there  is  in  sur- 
mounting it ;  skilful  pilots  gain  their  reputation  from  storms 
and  tempests. 

2.  How  far,  0  Catiline  !  wilt  thou  abuse  our  patience  ?  How 
long  wilt  thou  baffle  justice  in  thy  mad  career'?  To  what 
extreme  wilt  thou  cany  thy  audacity  ] 

3.  Welcome  her,  thunders  of  fort  and  of  fleet ! 
Welcome  her,  thundering  cheer  of  the  street ! 
Welcome  her,  all  things  youthful  and  sweet, 
Scatter  the  blossoms  under  her  feet ! 
Break,  happy  land,  into  earlier  flowers ! 
Make  music,  0  bird,  in  the  new-budded  bowers  ! 
Welcome  her,  welcome  her,  all  that  is  ours  ! 

Warble,  0  bugle,  and  trumpet,  blare  ! 
Flags,  flutter  out  upon  turrets  and  towers  ! 
Flames,  on  the  windy  headland  flare  ! 
Utter  your  jubilee,  steeple  and  spire  ! 
Clash,  ye  bells,  in  the  merry  March  air ! 
Flash,  ye  cities,  in  rivers  of  fire  ! 
Welcome  her,  welcome  the  land's  desire 


28  THE   FIFTH   READER. 


V. 

SLIDES  OB  INFLECTIONS. 

I.   Falling  Inflections. 

OUSE  thee  up  !     0  waste  not  life  in  fond  delusions !     Be 
a  soldier,  —  be  a  hero,  —  be  a  man  ! 

2.  "  Halt !  "     The  dust-brown  ranks  stood  fast. 
"  Fire  !  "     Out  blazed  the  rifle  blast. 

3.  There  is  a  sound  of  thunder  afar, 

Stbrm  in  the  South  that  darkens  the  day, 


E 


Storm  of  battle  and  thunder  of  war ; 
Well  if  it  do  not  roll  our  way. 

Stbrm  !  stbrm  !     Riflemen,  form  ! 
Ready,  be  ready  to  meet  the  storm  ! 
Riflemen,  riflemen,  riflemen,  form  ! 

II.   Rising  Inflections. 

1.  May  I  stay  here  ?  —  I  have  no  objection.  You  may  if  you 
like. 

2.  Is  this  the  part  of  wise  men,  engaged  in  a  great  and  ardu- 
ous struggle  for  liberty  1  Are  wre  disposed  to  be  of  the  number 
of  those  who,  having  eyes,  see  not,  and  having  ears,  hear  not, 
the  things  which  so  nearly  concern  their  temporal  salvation  ? 

3.  Art  thou  nothing  daunted  by  the  nightly  watch  %  Noth- 
ing, by  the  city  guards'?  Nothing,  by  the  rally  of  all  good 
citizens  ?  Nothing,  by  the  assembling  of  the  Senate  in  this  for- 
tified place  1    Nothing,  by  the  averted  looks  of  all  here  present  ] 

III.   Rising  and  Falling  Inflections. 

1.  Sink  or  swim,  live  or  die,  survive  or  perish,  I  give  my 
hand  and  my  heart  to  this  vote. 

2.  Spare  that  you  may  spend ;  fast  that  you  may  feast ; 
labor  that  you  may  live ;  and  run  that  you  may  rest. 

3.  Will  you  rise  like  men,  and  firmly  assert  your  rights,  or 
will  you  tamely  submit  to  be  trampled  on  % 


QUALITY   OF   VOICE.  29 

IV.   Circumflex  Inflections. 

1.  It  is  vastly  easy  for  you,  Mistress  Dial,  who  have  always, 
as  everybody  knows,  set  yourself  up  above  me,  —  it  is  vastly 
easy  for  you,  I  say,  to  accuse  other  people  of  laziness. 

2.  The  common  error  is,  to  resolve  to  act  right  after  break- 
fast, or  after  dinner,  or  to-morrow  morning,  or  next  time  :  but 
now,  just  now,  this  once,  we  must  go  on  the  same  as  ever. 

3.  If  you  said  so,  then  I  said  so.  Oho  !  did  you  say  so  1  So 
they  shook  hands  and  were  sworn  brothers. 


VI 

QUALITY  OF  VOICE. 
I.   Whisper. 

IS  all  prepared  ?  —  speak  soft  and  low." 
"  All  ready  !  we  have  sent  the  men, 
As  you  appointed,  to  the  place." 

2.  All  silent  they  went,  for  the  time  was  approaching, 
The  moon  the  blue  zenith  already  was  touching. 

3.  Hark !  I  hear  the  bugles  of  the  enemy  !  They  are  on 
their  march  along  the  bank  of  the  river.  We  must  retreat 
instantly,  or  be  cut  off  from  our  boats. 

II.   Half- Whisper,  or  Aspirated  Tone. 

1.   "  Silence  !  "  in  undertones  they  cry, 
"  No  whisper  !  —  not  a  breath  ! 
The  sound  that  warns  thy  comrades  nigh 
Shall  sentence  thee  to  death," 

2.   He  hears  a  nbise,  —  he  's  all  awake,  — 
Again  !     On  tiptoe  down  the  hill 
He  softly  creeps. 

3.  Soldiers  !.  you  are  now  within  a  few  steps  of  the  enemy's 
outpost.     A  swift  and  noiseless  advance  around  that  projecting 


30  THE    FIFTH   READEK. 

rock,  and  we  are  upon  them,  —  we  capture  them  without  the 
possibility  of  resistance. 

III.   Pure  Tone. 

1.  I  come,  I  come  !  —  ye  have  called  me  long,  — 
I  come  o'er  the  mountains  with  light  and  song. 

2.  Merrily  swinging  on  brier  and  weed, 

Near  to  the  nest  of  his  little  dame, 
Over  the  mountain-side  or  mead, 

Robert  of  Lincoln  is  telling  his  name,  — 
Bob-odink,  Bob-o-link,  spink,  spank,  spink. 

3.  Hurrah  !  how  gayly  we  ride  !  How  the  ship  careers ! 
How  she  leaps !  How  gracefully  she  bends !  How  fair  her 
white  wings  !  How  trim  her  hull !  How  slim  her  tall  taper 
masts  !     What  a  beautiful  dancing  fairy  ! 

IV.   Orotund. 

1.  0  thou  that  rollest  above,  round  as  the  shield  of  my 
fathers!  whence  are  thy  beams,  0  Sun!  thy  everlasting  light? 

2.  And  lo  !  from  the  assembled  crowd 
There  rose  a  shout  prolonged  and  loud. 

3.   Now  for  the  fight,  —  now  for  the  cannon  peal,  — 
Forward,  —  through  blood  and  toil  and  cloud  and  fire  ! 


VII. 

MOVEMENT,  OR  RATE  OF  UTTERANCE. 
I.   Quick  Movement. 

ALL  the  little  boys  and  girls, 
With  rosy  cheeks  and  flaxen  curls, 
And  sparkling  eyes  and  teeth  like  pearls, 
Tripping  and  skipping,  ran  merrily  after 
The  wonderful  music,  with  shouting  and  laughter. 


FORCE.  31 

2.     The  steed  along  the  drawbridge  flies 
Just  as  it  trembled  on  the  rise ; 
Not  lighter  does  the  swallow  skim 
Along  the  smooth  lake's  level  brim. 

3.  One  April  day,  while  Putnam  is  ploughing  on  his  farm, 
Rides  furious  by  a  horseman,  whose  cry  is,   "Arm!    Arm! 

Arm!" 
"  What  news  ?  what  news  % "  says  Putnam.     And  he  :  "  The 

war  's  begun, 
For  yesterday  a  battle  was  fought  at  Lexington." 

II.   Moderate 

1.  'T  is  not  enough  no  harshness  gives  offense  ; 
The  sound  must  seem  an  echo  to  the  sense. 

2.  Speak  the  speech,  I  pray  you,  as  I  pronounced  it  to  you, 
trippingly  on  the  tongue ;  but,  if  you  mouth  it,  as  many  of  our 
players  do,  I  had  as  lief  the  town-crier  spoke  my  lines. 

3.  The  air,  the  earth,  the  water,  teem  with  delighted  exist- 
ence. In  a  spring  noon,  or  a  summer  evening,  on  whichever 
side  we  turn  our  eyes,  myriads  of  happy  beings  crowd  upon  our 
view. 

Ill,   Slow. 

1.  The  curfew  tolls  the  knell  of  parting  day  ; 

The  lowing  herd  wTinds  slowly  o'er  the  lea ; 
The  ploughman  homeward  plods  his  weary  way, 
And  leaves  the  world  to  darkness  and  to  me. 

2.  If  there  's  a  Power  above  us 

(And  that  there  is,  all  Nature  cries  aloud 
Through  all  her  works),  he  must  delight  in  virtue ; 
And  that  which  he  delights  in  must  be  happy. 

3.  O  Lord,  our  Lord,  how  excellent  is  Thy  name  in  all  the 
earth !  who  hast  set  Thy  glory  above  the  heavens. 

When  I  consider  Thy  heavens,  the  work  of  Thy  fingers ;  the 
moon  and  the  stars,  which  Thou  hast  ordained;  what  is  man 
that  Thou  art  mindful  of  him  ?  and  the  son  of  man,  that  thou 
visitest  him  ? 


32  THE   FIFTH    READER. 


VIII. 

FORCE. 
I.   Gentle. 

FLOW,   softly  flow,  by  lawn  and  lea9 
A  rivulet,  then  a  river ; 
No  more  by  thee  my  steps  shall  be, 
Forever  and  forever. 

2.  The  night  shall  be  filled  with  music, 

And  the  cares  that  infest  the  day 
Shall  fold  their  tents,  like  the  Arabs, 
And  as  silently  steal  away. 

3.  0  hark,  0  hear  !  how  thin  and  clear, 

And  thinner,  clearer,  farther  going ; 
0  sweet  and  far,  from  cliff  and  scar, 
The  horns  of  Elf-land  faintly  blowing. 

II.   Moderate. 

1 .  Expression  is  the  dress  of  thought,  and  still 
Appears  more  decent  as  more  suitable. 

2.  We  should  make  the  same  use  of  a  book  that  the  bee  does 
of  a  flower  :  he  gathers  sweets  from  it,  but  does  not  injure  it. 

3.  It  is  not  what  people  6at,  but  what  they  digest,  that 
makes  them  strong.  It  is  not  what  they  gain,  but  what  they 
save,  that  makes  them  rich.  It  is  not  what  they  read,  but  what 
they  remember,  that  makes  them  learned.  It  is  not  what  they 
profess,  but  what  they  practice,  that  makes  them  good. 

III.   Loud. 

1.  The  war,  then,  must  go  on.  We  must  fight  it  through. 
And  since  the  war  must  go  on,  why  put  off  longer  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence  ^ 


PITCH   OF   VOICE.  33 

2.   Sound,  sound  the  clarion,  fill  the  fife  ! 
To  all  the  sensual  world  proclaim, 
One  crowded  hour  of  glorious  life 
Is  worth  an  age  without  a  name. 

3.   Hurrah  !  the  land  is  safe,  is  safe ;  it  rallies  from  the  shock  ! 
Ring  round,  ring  round,  ye  merry  bells,  till  every  steeple  rock  ! 
Let  trumpets  blow  and  mad  drums  beat !  let  maidens  scatter 

flowers  ! 
The  sun  bursts  through  the  battle  smoke  !  Hurrah  !  the  day 

is  ours  ! 

IV.   Very  Loud. 
1 .  Boat  ahoy  !     Boat  ahoy  ! 

2.  Ye  guards  of  liberty, 

I  'm  with  you  once  again.     I  call  to  you 
With  all  my  voice. 

3.  Rejoice,  you  men  of  Angiers,  ring  your  bells  ! 

King  John,  your  king  and  England's,  doth  approach  : 
Open  your  gates,  and  give  the  victors  way  ! 


IX. 

PITCH  OF  VOICE. 
I.  High. 

CRY  Holiday  !     Holiday  !  let  us  be  gay, 
And  share  in  the  rav~:ure  of  heaven  and  earth ; 
For,  see  !  what  a  sunshiny  joy  they  display, 

To  welcome  the  Spring  on  the  day  of  her  birth, 

2.  You  must  wake  and  call  me  early,   call  me   early,  mother 

dear ; 
To-morrow  '11  be  the  happiest  time  of  all  the  glad  New- Year ; 
Of  all  the  glad  New- Year,  mother,  the  maddest,  merriest  day  ; 
For  I J  a  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May,  mother,  I  'm  to  be  Queen  o' 

the  May. 


34  THE   FIFTH   READER. 


3.    Hear  the  sledges  with  the  bells, 


Silver  bells  ! 
What  a  world  of  merriment  their  melody  foretells  ! 
How  they  tinkle,  tinkle,  tinkle, 

In  the  icy  air  of  night  [ 
While  the  stars  that  oversprinkle 
All  the  heavens,  seem  to  twinkle 

With  a  crystalline  delight. 

II.   Middle. 

1.  But  true  expression,  like  the  unchanging  sun, 
Clears  and  improves  whate'er  it  shines  upon  ; 
It  gilds  all  objects,  but  it  alters  none. 

2.  'T  is  education  forms  the  common  mind ; 
Just  as  the  twig  is  bent,  the  tree  's  inclined. 

3.  As  Caesar  loved  me,  I  weep  for  him  ;  as  he  was  fortunate, 
I  rejoice  at  it ;  as  he  was  valiant,  I  honor  him ;  but  as  he  was 
ambitious,  I  slew  him. 

III.   Low. 

1.  Hark  !  from  the  battlements  of  yonder  tower, 
The  solemn  bell  has  tolled  the  midnight  hour. 

2.  The  curfew  tolls  the  knell  of  parting  day  ; 

The  lowing  herd  winds  slowly  o'er  the  lea ; 
The  ploughman  homeward  plods  his  weary  way, 
And  leaves  the  world  to  darkness  and  to  me. 

3.  Of  old  hast  Thou  laid  the  foundations  of  the  earth  ;  and 
the  heavens  are  the  work  of  Thy  hands.  They  shall  perish, 
but  Thou  shalt  endure  ;  yea,  all  of  them  shall  wax  old,  like  a 
garment ;  as  a  vesture  shalt  Thou  change  them,  and  they  shall 
be  changed  :  but  Thou  art  the  same  ;  and  Thy  years  shall  have 
no  end. 


VWll 


"  So  they  read  in  the  book  in  the  law  of  God  distinctly,  and 
gave  the  sense,  and  caicsed  them  to  understand  the  reading." 

Nkhemiah,  VIII.  8. 


The  Fifth  Reader, 


l,_TEE  FISH  I  DIDN'T  CATCH. 

I  REMEMBER  my  first  fishing-excursion  as  if  it  were 
but  yesterday.  I  have  been  happy  many  times  in  my 
life,  but  never  more  intensely  so  than  when  I  received  that 
first  fishing-pole  from  my  uncle's  hand,  and  trudged  off 
with  him  through  the  woods  and  meadows, 

2.  It  was  a  still,  sweet  day  of  early  summer ;  the  long 
afternoon  shadows  of  the  trees  lay  cool  across  our  path  ; 
the  leaves  seemed  greener,  the  flowers  brighter,  the  birds 
merrier,  than  ever  before. 

3.  My  uncle,  who  knew  by  long  experience  where  were 
the  best  haunts  of  pickerel,  considerately  placed  me  at  the 
most  favorable  point.  I  threw  out  my  line  as  I  had  so 
often  seen  others  do,  and  waited  anxiously  for  a  bite,  mov- 
ing the  bait  in  rapid  jerks  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  in 
imitation  of  the  leap  of  a  frog.  Nothing  came  of  it,  "  Try 
again,"  said  my  uncle. 

4.  Suddenly  the  bait  sank  out  of  sight.  "  Now  for  it," 
thought  I ;  "  here  is  a  fish  at  last,"  I  made  a  strong  pull, 
and  brought  up  a  tangle  of  weeds.  Again  and  again  I  cast 
out  my  line  with  aching  arms,  and  drew  it  back  empty.  I 
looked  to  my  uncle  appealingly.  "Try  once  more,"  he  said  ; 
"  we  fishermen  must  have  patience." 

5.  Suddenly  something  tugged  at  my  line,  and  swept  off 
with  it  into  deep  water.  Jerking  it  up,  I  saw  a  fine  pick- 
erel wriggling  in  the  sun.  "  Uncle  !  "  I  cried,  looking  back 
in  uncontrollable  excitement,  "  I  Ve  got  a  fish  1 " 


38  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

6.  "  Not  yet/'  said  my  uncle.  As  he  spoke  there  was  a 
plash  in  the  water ;  I  caught  the  arrowy  gleam  of  a  scared 
fish  shooting  into  the  middle  of  the  stream  ;  my  hook 
hung  empty  from  the  line.     I  had  lost  my  prize. 

7.  Overcome  by  my  great  and  bitter  disappointment,  I 
sat  down  on  the  nearest  hassock,  and  for  a  time  refused  to 
be  comforted  even  by  my  uncle's  assurance  that  there  were 
more  fish  in  the  brook.  He  refitted  my  bait,  and,  putting 
the  pole  again  in  my  hands,  told  me  to  try  my  luck  once 
more. 

8.  "  But  remember,  boy,"  he  said,  with  his  shrewd  smile, 
"  never  brag  of  catching  a  fish  until  he  is  on  dry  ground. 
I've  seen  older  folks  doing  that  in  more  ways  than  one, 
and  so  making  fools  of  themselves.  It 's  no  use  to  boast 
of  anything  until  it 's  done,  nor  then,  either,  for  it  speaks 
for  itself." 

9.  How  often  since  I  have  been  reminded  of  the  fish  I 
did  n't  catch  !  When  I  hear  people  boasting  of  a  work  as 
yet  undone,  and  trying  to  anticipate  the  credit  which  be- 
longs only  to  actual  achievement,  I  call  to  mind  that  scene 
by  the  brookside  ;  and  the  wise  caution  of  my  uncle  in 
that  particular  instance  takes  the  form  of  a  proverb  of  uni- 
versal  application  :   "  Never  brag   of  your  fish  before 

TOU    CATCH    HIM."  j    0    mM&r 

EXERCISE. 
Reaj)  these  sentences,  first  as  given  ;   THEN  agatn,  supplying 

WORDS  OR  PHRASES  OF  SIMILAR  MEANING  IN  PLACE  OF  THOSE  IN  ITALICS. 

1.  I  remember  my  first  fishing-excursion. 

2.  I  trudged  off  through  the  woods  and  meadows. 

3.  Suddenly  the  bait  sank  out  of  sight. 

4.  I  cast  out  my  line,  and  drew  it  back  empty. 

5.  Suddenly  something  tugged  at  my  line. 

6.  Jerking  it  up,  I  saw  a  fine  pickerel  wriggling  in  the  sun. 

7.  I  saw  a  scared  fish  shooting  into  the  middle  of  the  stream. 

8.  I  sat  down  on  the  nearest  hassock.     [Tuft  of  coarse  grass.] 

9.  My  uncle  assured  me  there  were  more  fish  in  the  brook. 

10.  I  call  to  mind  that  scene  by  the  brookside. 

11.  It 's  no  use  to  boast  of  anything  until  it 's  done. 


THE  FLY  AND    THE   LEAFLET.  39 


II  -  THE  FLY  AND  THE  LEAFLET 


ON  a  bridge  I  was  standing,  one  morning. 
And  watching  the  current  roll  by, 
When  suddenly  into  the  water 
There  fell  an  unfortunate  fly. 

ii. 

The  fishes  that  swam  to  the  surface 
Were  looking  for  something  to  eat, 

And  I  thought  that  the  hapless  young  insect 
Would  surely  afford  them  a  treat. 

in. 

"  Poor  thing  !  "  I  exclaimed,  with  compassion, 
"  Your  trials  and  dangers  abound  ; 

For  if  you  escape  being  eaten, 

You  cannot  escape  being  drowned." 

IV. 

No  sooner  the  sentence  was  spoken 

Than,  lo  !  like  an  angel  of  love, 
I  sawr  to  the  waters  beneath  me 

A  leaflet  descend  from  above. 

v. 

It  glided  serene  on  the  streamlet, 
'T  was  an  ark  to  the  poor  little  fly, 

Which,  soon  to  the  land  re-ascending, 
Spread  its  wings  in  the  breezes  to  dry 

VI. 

0,  sweet  was  the  truth  that  was  whispered, 
That  mortals  should  never  despair, 

For  He  who  takes  care  of  the  insect 
Much  more  for  His  children  will  care ! 


40  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

VII. 

And  though  to  our  short-sighted  vision 
No  way  of  escape  may  appear, 

Let  us  trust,  —  for  when  least  we  expect  it, 
The  help  of  our  Father  is  near. 


III.  —  STONING   THE  FROGS. 

MABY  OSBORNE  and  Augustina  sat  together  be- 
hind a  screen  of  rocks  and  bushes,  and  peeped  out 
to  the  place  where  two  boys,  George  and  Johnny,  were 
standing  near  the  shore  of  the  pond. 

2.  "  This  is  the  place,  Johnny,"  said  George.  "  Now  we 
must  pick  up  all  the  stones  we  can  find,  and  get  them 
ready,  and  then  watch  the  water,  and  just  as  soon  as  we 
see  a  head  come  up  above  the  lily-pads,  we  must  let  drive." 

3.  In  a  word,  George  had  brought  Johnny  down  to  the 
shore  of  the  pond  at  the  watering-place,  with  a  view  to 
pelting  the  poor  frogs  that  lived  in  the  water  there,  among 
the  lily-pads  and  bulrushes  which  grew  at  a  little  distance 
from  the  shore. 

4.  "  Tubh  !  "  said  one  of  the  frogs.  v 

"There  1 "  exclaimed  George,  "  don't  you  hear  him,  John- 
ny ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Johnny,  "  but  I  don't  see  him." 

5.  "  He  is  out  that  way,"  said  George,  and  then  sudden- 
ly he  threw  the  stone  with  great  force.  The  two  girls  heard 
the  splash  it  made  in  the  water,  but  could  not  see  where  it 
struck. 

6.  "  Did  you  hit  him  ?  "  asked  Johnny. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  George.  "  I  did  not  see  him ;  I 
only  fired  at  a  venture." 

7.  "  They  are  pelting  the  frogs,"  said  Augustina,  in  a 
whisper. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mary  Osborne,  speaking  also  very  softly. 
*'  Do  you  think  we  had  better  go  and  tell  them  they  must 
not  do  it  ?  " 


STONING  THE   FROGS.  41 

8.  "  No,"  said  Augustina  ;  "  that  would  not  do  any  good. 
Tliey  will  do  just  as  they  have  a  mind  to  for  all  that  we 
can  say." 

"  One  of  them  is  not  very  big,"  said  Mary  Osborne. 

9.  "  No,  Johnny  is  a  small  boy/'  replied  Augustina,  "  but 
he  will  do  just  as  the  big  one  says.  Besides,  if  we  say 
anything  to  them,  it  is  as  likely  as  not  that  they  will  begin 
to  pelt  us  with  their  stones.  But  hark  !  here  is  somebody 
coming." 

10.  Augustina  began  gently  to  push  away  some  of  the 
leaves  so  that  she  could  see  better. 

"  It  is  a  man  coming  on  a  horse,"  said  she.  "  He  is  turn- 
ing down  from  the  road.  He  is  coming  to  water  his  horse. 
I  hope  he  will  find  out  what  the  boys  are  doing,  and  will 
give  them  a  good  scolding." 

11.  The  man  upon  the  horse  did  find  out  what  the 
boys  were  doing,  for  George  was  in  the  act  of  throwing  a 
stone  when  the  man  first  came  in  sight  of  him,  as  he 
turned  down  toward  the  shore.  And  he  did  give  them  a 
good  scolding,  —  at  least,  what  the  boys  called  such. 

12.  All  the  while  the  man  had  been  talking  with  the 
boys,  his  horse  had  been  drinking.  The  horse  having  now 
drank  enough,  the  man  turned  him  round  and  went  back 
toward  the  road,  saying  as  he  went,  — 

"  Now  remember,  boys  !     When  I  am  gone,  leave  the 
frogs  alone,  and  don't  pelt  them  any  more." 
So  saying,  the  man  and  the  horse  disappeared. 

13.  "  Who  is  that  man  ?  "  asked  Johnny. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  George,  looking  out  at  the  same 
time  over  the  water  to  see  if  he  could  discover  another 
frog.     "  Whoever  he  is,  we  won't  mind  what  he  says." 

14.  "  No,  but  1 11  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said  Johnny. 
"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  George,  beginning  to  take  aim. 

15.  "  If  he  had  only  let  us  have  his  horse,  we  might 
have  gone  out  and  got  some  pond-lilies." 

"  Hoh  ! "  exclaimed  George,  in  a  tone  of  great  contempt. 
u  That  man  would  not  let  us  have  his  horse  to  get  pond- 
lilies." 


42 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


§£*  A2J 


16.  Just  at  that  instant  George  caught  sight  of  a  frog, 
and  immediately  he  threw  his  stone  with  all  his  force. 

"  My  !  "  he  ejaculated.  "  I  came  within  an  inch  of  him. 
I  took  aim  right  between  his  eyes.  That 's  the  way  to  take 
aim,  —  right  between  the  eyes." 

17.  The  boys  evincing  thus  a  disposition  to  go  on  pelt- 
ing the  frogs,  Mary  Osborne  was  very  much  inclined  to  go 
out  and  try  the  effect  of  her  remonstrances  upon  them. 
But  Augustina  dissuaded  her  from  any  such  attempt. 

18.  In  a  few  minutes  they  heard  the  sound  of  wheels. 
At  the  same  moment  they  heard  Johnny  say,  — 

"  Here  's  somebody  coming,  George." 
Johnny  was  afraid  it  might  be  somebody  coming  to  give 
them  another  scolding  for  pelting  the  frogs. 


STONING    THE   FROGS.  43 

19.  "  I  don't  care,"  said  George. 

"  Look  and  see  if  you  know  who  it  is/'  said  Johnny. 
So  George  looked  up.     "  No,"  said  he,  "  I  don't  know 
who  it  is." 

20.  The  wagon  was  now  turning  down  toward  the  water- 
ing-place, and  the  girls  could  see  that  there  was  quite  an 
agreeable-looking  young  man  in  it.  He  was  well  dressed, 
and  he  had  a  frank  and  open  countenance. 

21.  As  soon  as  the  horse  came  to  the  margin  of  the 
water,  the  young  man  said,  — 

"  Boys,  will  one  of  you  be  good  enough  to  unhook  the 
check-rein,  so  that  my  horse  can  drink  ? " 

22.  The  boys  threw  down  their  stones,  and  ran  at  once 
to  the  horse.  George,  being  the  tallest,  unhooked  the  rein, 
and  the  horse  began  to  drink. 

23.  "  I  knew  you  were  clever  fellows  the  minute  I  put 
my  eyes  on  you,"  said  the  young  man.  "  Now  jump  up 
into  my  wagon.     I  want  you  up  here." 

24.  The  boys  immediately  scrambled  up  into  the  wagon. 
The  young  man  made  room  for  them  upon  the  seat.  As 
soon  as  they  were  comfortably  settled,  George  looked  up 
at  the  young  man,  and  asked,  — 

"  What  do  you  want  of  us  ? " 

25.  "  0,  only  your  company  up  here,  while  my  horse  is 
drinking,"  said  he.  "  What  is  there  here  on  the  pond  that 
you  were  looking  at  when  I  came  along  ? " 

26.  "  Frogs,"  said  George. 

"  Pond-lilies,"  said  Johnny.  Johnny  seemed  to  have  an 
instinctive  feeling  that  it  was  better  to  turn  the  conversa- 
tion toward  the  pond-lilies  than  to  the  frogs. 

27.  "  Would  you  like  some  of  those  pond-lilies  ?  "  asked 
the  young  man. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  exclaimed  both  the  boys. 

28.  "  Then  we  will  drive  out  and  get  some,"  replied  the 
young  man.  "You  are  not  afraid  to  go  with  me,  are 
you?" 

"  No,  indeed  '  "  said  the  boys. 


44  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

29.  "Then  scramble  over  behind  the  seat,"  said  ttie 
young  man,  "and  I  will  drive  out  there,  and  back  you 
down  among  the  lily-pads,  and  you  can  get  as  many  lilies 
as  you  like,"  * 


IV.  — STONING   THE  FROGS. 

PART    SECOND. 

MAEY  OSBOBNE  and  Augustina  were  so  much  in- 
terested in  watching  the  operation  of  backing  the 
wagon  into  the  water,  that  they  forgot  their  desire  to  keep 
themselves  concealed,  and  went  down  to  the  margin  of  the 
pond,  and  there  stood  in  full  view,  looking  on  while  the 
boys  were  gathering  the  lilies. 

2.  "It  is  William  Darricut,"  said  Augustina  to  Mary 
Osborne,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Hush  ! "  said  Mary  Osborne. 

3.  The  party  in  the  wagon  did  not  see  the  two  girls. 
The  boys  were  busy  gathering  the  lilies,  and  William  Dar- 
ricut was  watching  the  boys,  to  see  that  they  did  not  lean 
over  too  far. 

4.  "  George,"  said  Johnny,  stopping  suddenly,  and  point- 
ing to  a  little  distance  off  over  the  water.  "  Look  !  there  's 
a  frog  !     See  ! " 

5.  "  Yes,"  said  young  Darricut.  "  He  is  sunning  him- 
self. We  won't  hurt  you,  old  fellow.  We  won't  even 
frighten  you  if  we  can  help  it.     Will  we,  boys  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  boys. 

6.  "  If  I  only  had  a  crust  of  bread  here,"  said  William 
Darricut,  "  I  would  feed  him  with  the  crumbs." 

The  boys  looked  at  the  frog,  but  said  nothing. 

7.  "  I  wish  he  would  come  here  and  let  us  see  him  swim," 
continued  the  young  man.  "  You  don't  know  how  elegantly 
he  can  swim.  The  best  way,  in  fact,  for  a  boy  to  leaxn  to 
swim  is  to  watch  how  one  of  these  big  pond-lily  frogs  pushes 
backwards  with  his  hind  paddles,  and  then  draws  his  legs 
up  to  push  again. 


STONING   THE   FROGS,  45 

8.  M  And  yet  I  have  known  some  boys  to  take  pleasure 
in  tormenting  them  and  pelting  them  with  stones.  That  is 
a  bad  sign.  It  is  a  sign  of  an  ugly  fellow  to  like  to  pelt 
frogs  in  a  pond. 

9.  "  George,"  said  the  young  man,  suddenly  interrupting 
himself,  "  would  you  like  to  drive  the  wagon  up  out  of  the 
water  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  George,  eagerly. 

"Then  give  the  little  fellow  your  lilies  to  hold,  and 
scramble  back  over  here." 

10.  George  and  Johnny  both  climbed  along  the  side  of 
the  wagon  back  to  the  seat,  and  then,  after  Johnny  had 
taken  all  the  pond-lilies,  George,  with  great  pride  and  sat- 
isfaction, drove  the  wagon  out  to  dry  land.  In  the  mean- 
time, the  two  girls  had  gone  back  into  their  place  of  retreat 
without  having  been  observed. 

11.  As  soon  as  the  wagon  reached -the  land,  the  boys  got 
out  of  it,  and  William  Darricut,  after  bidding  them  good-by, 
drove  away.  The  two  boys  stood  a  moment  on  the  shore 
at  the  place  where  the  wagon  had  left  them,  without  saying 
a  word. 

12.  Presently  George  began  to  push  away  with  his  foot 
the  pile  of  stones  which  he  had  collected  for  ammunition, 
so  as  to  scatter  them  about  the  shore.  Johnny  immediately 
began  to  do  the  same  with  his  pile  of  stones. 

13.  "  That  was  a  good  fellow,  was  n't  he,  George  ? "  said  he. 
"Yes,"  said  George,  "he  was  a  real  good  fellow." 

14.  Here  there  was  another  pause.  George  seemed  to  be 
feeling  in  the  bottom  of  his  pockets. 

Presently  he  said,  "You  have  not  got  any  crumbs  of 
bread,  or  anything  in  your  pockets,  have  you,  Johnny  ? " 

15.  "No,"  said  Johnny,  beginning  at  the  same  time  to 
feel  in  his  pockets,  "  I  don't  think  I  have." 

"  Because  if  we  only  had  some  crumbs,"  said  George,  "  we 
might  give  them  to  the  frogs." 

16.  "  I  '11  give  them  my  cake,"  said  Mary  Osborne,  in  an 
eager  whisper  to  Augustina.      She  immediately  left  the 


46  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

peep-hole  windows  and  went  down  around  the  rocks,  by  the 
little  pathway  near  the  water,  followed  closely  by  Augus- 
tina,  and  came  out  suddenly  into  view  before  the  boys. 
They  seemed  amazed  at  this  sudden  apparition. 

17.  "  Here  is  a  cake  you  may  have  to  feed  the  frogs  with," 
she  said,  at  the  same  time  holding  out  the  cake  towTard  them. 

The  boys  hesitated  a  moment,  appearing  not  to  know 
what  to  do.  At  length  George  took  the  cake  into  his 
hand  and  looked  at  it. 

18.  Presently,  after  a  moment's  pause,  he  said,  "  I  wish 
you  would  let  Johnny  and  me  eat  it,  instead  of  giving  it  to 
the  frogs." 

"  Well,"  said  Mary  Osborne,  "  Johnny  and  you  may  have 
it." 

19.  "  And  we  '11  give  you  some  of  our  pond-lilies,"  said 
Johnny. 

"  Yes,"  said  George,  "  so  Ave  will." 

20.  Accordingly  George  broke  the  cake  in  two,  and  gave 
each  of  the  girls  two  or  three  pond-lilies,  as  many  aa  they 
wTere  willing  to  take. 

21.  Soon  after  this  the  two  parties  separated;  the  boys 
going  away  by  the  road,  and  the  girls  setting  out  on  their 
return  home  by  the  pathway  in  which  they  came. 

Jacob  Abbott. 


EXERCISE. 
[See  Directions  on  page  38.] 

1.  Johnny  is  a  small  boy,  but  he  will  do  as  tie  big  boy  says. 

2.  Augustina  began  gently  to  push  away  some  of  the  leaves. 

3.  The  boys  evinced  a  disposition  to  go  on  pelting  the  frogs. 

4.  "  My  !  "  he  ejaculated.     "  I  came  within  an  inch  of  him." 

5.  In  a  few  minutes  they  heard  the  sound  of  wheels. 

6.  The  horse  came  to  the  margin  of  the  water. 

7.  The  boys  immediately  scrambled  up  into  the  wagon. 

8.  The  girls  forgot  their  desire  to  keep  themselves  concealed. 

9.  They  stood  mfull  view  while  the  boys  were  gathering  lilies. 

10.  You  don't  know  how  elegantly  a  frog  can  swim. 

11.  The  girls  came  out  suddenly  into  view  before  the  boys. 

12.  They  seemed  amazed  at  this  sudden  apparition.     [Appearance.! 


THE   DAY    IS   DONE.  47 

V.— THE  DAT  IS  DOME. 
i. 

The  day  is  done,  and  the  darkness 

Falls  from  the  wings  of  Night, 
As  a  feather  is  wafted  downward 

From  an  eagle  in  his  flight. 
I  see  the  lights  of  the  village 

Gleam  through  the  rain  and  the  mist, 
And  a  feeling  of  sadness  comes  o'er  me, 

That  my  soul  cannot  resist — 

IT. 

A  feeling  of  sadness  and  longing, 

That  is  not  akin  to  pain, 
And  resembles  sorrow  only 

As  the  mist  resembles  rain. 
Come,  read  to  me  some  poem, 

Some  simple  and  heartfelt  lay, 
That  shall  soothe  this  restless  feeling, 

And  banish  the  thoughts  of  day. 

in. 
Not  from  the  grand  old  masters, 

Not  from  the  bards  sublime, 
Whose  distant  footsteps  echo 

Through  the  corridors  of  Time. 
For  like  strains  or  martial  music, 

Their  mighty  t noughts  suggest 
Life's  endless  toil  and  endeavor ; 

And  to-night  I  long  for  rest. 

IV. 

Read  from  some  humbler  poet, 

Whose  songs  gushed  from  his  heart, 
As  showers  from  the  clouds  of  summer5 

Or  tears  from  the  eyelids  start; 
Who,  through  long  days  of  labor, 

And  nights  devoid  of  ease, 
Still  heard  in  his  soul  the  music 

Of  wonderful  melodies. 


48  THE  FIFTH   READER. 


Such  songs  have  power  to  quiet 

The  restless  pulse  of  care, 
And  come  like  the  benediction 

That  follows  after  prayer. 
Then  read  from  the  treasured  volume 

The  poem  of  thy  choice, 
And  lend  to  the  rhyme  of  the  poet 

The  beauty  of  thy  voice. 

VI. 

And  the  night  shall  be  filled  with  music, 

And  the  cares,  that  infest  the  day, 
Snail  fold  their  tents,  like  the  Arabs, 

And  as  silently  steal  away. 

H.  W.  Longfellow 


VI.  — THE  TRUTH-SPEAKER. 

IN  the  year  1777  war  was  going  on  in  this  country,  for 
King  George  the  Third  wanted  to  make  unjust  laws  in 
America,  but  the  people  would  not  obey  them.  A  Gov- 
ernor, whose  name  was  Griswold,  found  himself  in  danger 
of  bein<r  seized  by  the  Kind's  soldiers,  and  took  shelter  in 

Tien   *i 

a  farm-house,  which  was  the  home  of  a  relation.  While 
hidden  there  he  heard  that  a  band  of  soldiers  was  on  the 
road,  with  orders  to  search  the  farm  and  seize  him. 

2.    Griswold   thought   he  would   try  to  reach  a   small 
stream  with  deep  banks  on  each  side,  where  he  had  left  a 


THE   TRUTH-SPEAKER.  49 

boat  which  the  passers-by  could  not  see.  In  great  haste  he 
went  out  of  the  house  to  go  through  an  orchard,  where  he 
found  a  young  girl,  about  twelve  years  old,  with  her  dog. 

3.  They  were  watching  some  long  pieces  of  linen  cloth 
which  lay  around,  stretched  out  in  the  sun,  to  bleach. 
Hetty  was  on  a  bank  with  her  knitting,  and  near  to  her  a 
pail  of  water,  from  which  she  sprinkled  the  cloth  every 
now  and  then,  to  keep  it  in  a  damp  state.  She  started  up 
when  a  man  leaped  over  the  fence,  but  she  soon  saw  it  was 
her  cousin. 

4.  "  Hetty,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  lose  my  life  unless  I  can 
get  to  the  boat  before  the  soldiers  come.  You  see  where 
the  roads  part,  close  by  the  orchard ;  I  want  you  to  run 
down  towards  the  shore,  and  meet  the  soldiers,  who  are 
sure  to  ask  for  me,  and  then  you  must  tell  them  that  I  am 
gone  up  the  road  to  catch  the  mail-cart,  and  they  will  turn 
off  the  other  way." 

5.  "  But,  cousin,  how  can  I  say  so  ?  —  it  would  not  be 
true.     0,  why  did  you  tell  me  which  way  you  were  going  ? " 

6.  "  Would  you  betray  me,  Hetty,  and  see  me  put  to 
death  ?  Hark  !  they  are  coming.  I  hear  the  clink  of  the 
horses'  feet.  Tell  them  I  have  gone  up  the  road,  and 
Heaven  will  bless  you." 

7.  "  Those  who  speak  false  words^  will  never  be  happy. 
But  they  shall  not  make  me  tell  which  way  you  go,  even 
if  they  kill  me,  —  so  run  as  fast  as  you  can." 

"  It  is  too  late  to  run.     Where  can  I  hide  myself  ?  " 

8.  "  Be  quick,  cousin !  Come  down  and  lie  under  this 
cloth  ;  I  will  throw  it  over  you,  and  go  on  sprinkling  the 
linen." 

"  I  will  come  down,  for  it  is  my  last  chance." 

9.  He  was  soon  hidden  under  the  heavy  folds  of  the  long 
cloth.  In  a  few  minutes  a  party  of  horse-soldiers  dashed 
along  the  road.  An  officer  saw  the  girl,  and  called  out  to 
her  in  a  loud  voice,  "  Have  you  seen  a  man  run  by  this  way  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Hetty. 

10.  "  Which  way  did  he  go  ?  " 


50  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

"  I  promised  not  to  tell,  sir." 

11.  "  But  you  must  tell  me  this  instant,  or  it  will  bo 
worse  for  you." 

"  I  will  not  tell,  for  I  must  keep  my  word." 

12.  "  Let  me  speak,  for  I  think  I  know  the  child,"  said 
a  man  who  was  guide  to  the  party.  —  "  Is  your  name  Hetty 
Marvin  ? " 

"Yes,  sir." 

13.  "  Perhaps  the  man  who  ran  past  you  was  your 
cousin  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  he  was." 

14.  "  Well,  we  wish  to  speak  with  him.  What  did  he 
say  to  you  when  he  came  by  ? " 

"  He  told  me  that  he  had  to  run  to  save  his  life." 

15.  "  Just  so,  —  that  was  quite  true.  I  hope  he  will  not 
have  far  to  run.     Where  was  he  going  to  hide  himself  ?  " 

16.  "My  cousin  said  that  he  would  go  to  the  river  to 
find  a  boat,  and  he  wanted  me  to  tell  the  men  in  search* 
of  him  that  he  had  gone  the  other  way  to  meet  the  mail- 
cart." 

17.  "  You  are  a  good  girl,  Hetty,  and  we  know  you 
speak  truth.  AVhat  did  your  cousin  say  when  he  heard 
that  you  could  not  tell  a  lie  to  save  his  life  ? " 

"  He  said,  '  Would  I  betray  him,  and  see  him  put  to 
death  ? ' " 

18.  "  And  you  said  you  would  not  tell,  if  you  were 
killed  for  it." 

Poor  Hetty's  tears  fell  fast  as  she  said,  "  Yes,  sir." 

19.  "  Those  were  brave  words,  and  I  suppose  he  thanked 
you,  and  ran  down  the  road  as  fast  as  he  could  ?  " 

"  I  promised  not  to  tell  which  way  he  went,  sir." 

20.  "  0  yes,  I  forgot ;  but  tell  me  his  last  words,  and  I 
will  not  trouble  you  any  more." 

"  He  said,  f  I  will  come  down,  for  it  is  my  last  chance.7 ,: 

21.  Hetty  was  now  in  great  fear  ;  she  sobbed  aloud,  and 
hid  her  face  in  her  apron.  The  soldiers  thought  they  had 
got  all  they  wanted  to  know,  and  rode  off  to  the  river-side. 


THE   TRUTH-SPEAKER.  51 

22.  While  Griswold  lay  hid  at  the  farm  he  had  agreed 
upon  a  signal  with  his  boatmen,  that  if  in  trouble  he  would 
put  a  white  cloth  by  day,  or  a  light  at  night,  in  the  attic 
window  of  his  hiding-place,  and  when  either  signal  was 
seen,  the  men  were  to  be  on  the  watch  ready  to  help  him 
in  case  of  need. 

23.  No  sooner  did  the  soldiers  ride  away,  than  Griswold's 
friends  in  the  house  hung  out  a  wThite  cloth  from  the  win- 
dow, to  warn  the  boatmen,  who  pulled  out  to  sea  when 
they  saw  the  red  coats  of  the  soldiers  as  they  dashed  along 
the  river-side. 

24.  The  boat,  with  two  men  in  it,  was  nearly  out  of  sight 
by  the  time  the  soldiers  got  to  the  shore,  and  this  caused 
them  to  think  that  Griswold  had  made  his  escape. 

25.  Meantime  he  lay  safe  and  quiet  until  the  time  came 
for  Hetty  to  go  home  to  supper.  Then  he  bid  her  go  and 
ask  her  mother  to  put  the  signal-lamp  in  the  window  as 
soon  as  it  grew  dark,  and  send  him  clothes  and  food.  The 
signal  was  seen,  the  boat  came  back,  and  Griswold  made 
his  way  to  it  in  safety. 

26.  In  better  days,  wdien  the  war  wTas  over,  he  named 
his  first  child  Hetty  Marvin,  that  he  might  daily  think  of 
the  brave  young  cousin  wrhose  sense  and  truth-speaking  had 
saved  his  life.  Miss  Crompton. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  He  was  in  danger  of  being  seized  by  the  king's  soldiers. 

2.  In  great  haste  he  went  out  of  the  house. 

3.  The  linen  was  stretched  in  the  sun  to  bleach. 

4.  She  started  up  when  a  man  leaped,  over  the  fence. 

5.  You  see  where  the  roads  part,  close  by  the  orchard. 

6.  Would  you  betray  me,  and  see  me  put  to  death. 

7.  Those  who  speak  false  words  will  never  be  happy. 

8.  In  a  fe*w  minutes  a  party  of  soldiers  dashed  along  the  road. 

9.  The  boatmen  pulled  out  to  sea  when  they  saw  the  soldiers. 

10.  They  thought  he  had  made  his  escape. 

11.  He  bid  her  go  and  ask  her  mother  to  put  the  lamp  in  the  window. 

12.  The  signal  was  seen  and  the  boat  came  back. 


52  THE   FIFTH   READER. 


VII.  —  COME  AND  GO. 

i. 

DICK  DAWDLE  had  land  worth  two  hundred  a  year, 
Yet  from  debt  and  from  dunning  he  never  was  free ; 
His  intellect  was  not  surprisingly  clear, 
But  he  never  felt  satisfied  how  it  could  be. 

ii. 

The  raps  at  his  door,  and  the  rings  at  his  gate, 
And  the  threats  of  a  jail  he  no  longer  could  bear ; 

So  he  made  up  his  mind  to  sell  half  his  estate, 

Which  would  pay  all  his  debts,  and  leave  something,  to  spare. 

in. 

He  leased  to  a  farmer  the  rest  of  his  land 

For  twenty-one  years ;  and  on  each  quarter  day 

The  honest  man  went  with  the  rent  in  his  hand 
His  liberal  landlord,  delighted,  to  pay. 

IV. 

Before  half  the  term  of  the  lease  had  expired, 

The  farmer  one  day,  with  a  bag  full  of  gold, 
Said,  "  Pardon  me,  sir,  but  I  long  have  desired 

To  purchase  my  farm,  if  the  land  can  be  sold. 

v. 

"  Ten  years  I  've  been  blest  with  success  arid  with  health ; 

With  trials  a  few,  —  I  thank  God,  not  severe. 
I  am  grateful,  I  hope,  though  not  proud  of  my  wealth, 

But  I  've  managed  to  lay  by  a  hundred  a  year." 

VI. 

"Why,  how,"  exclaimed  Dick,  "can  this  possibly  be?" 
(With  a  stare  of  surprise,  and  a  mortified  laugh  ;) 

u  The  ivhole  of  my  farm  proved  too  little  for  me, 
And  you,  it  appears,  have  grown  rich  upon  half." 


SIR   WALTER    RALEIOxH   AND   HIS   TWO    PLANTS.        53 
VII. 

"  I  hope  you  '11  excuse  me,"  the  farmer  replies, 

"  But  I  '11  tell  you  the  cause,  if  your  Honor  would  know ; 

In  two  little  words  all  the  difference  lies, 
I  always  say  come,  and  you  used  to  say  go" 

VIII. 

"  Well,  and  what  does  that  mean,  my  good  fellow  1 "  he  said. 

"  Why  this,  sir,  that  /always  rise  wTith  the  sun  ; 
You  said  '  go '  to  your  mau,  as  you  lay  in  your  bed, 

I  say  '  Come,  Jack,  wdth  me,'  and  I  see  the  work  done." 

R.  S.  Sharpe. 


VIII.  —  SIR   WALTER  RALEIGH  AND  HIS 
TWO  PLANTS. 

DURING  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  —  now  three 
hundred  years  ago,  —  that  famous  soldier  and  states- 
man, Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  did  some  very  remarkable  things. 
He  made  a  voyage  to  America,  where  he  discovered  Vir- 
ginia, —  which  was  named  after  the  Virgin  Queen,  —  and, 
returning  home,  carried  with  him  two  plants,  the  use  of 
which  he  had  learned  of  the  Indians. 

2.  One  was  the  potato,  which  had  never  before  been  seen 
in  a  civilized  country.  The  other  was  destined  to  become 
quite  as  celebrated,  if  not  so  useful.  This  was  the  tobacco- 
plant. 

3.  Shortly  after  Sir  Walter's  return  home,  a  servant  came 
into  his  room  one  morning  and  found  him  sitting  before 
the  fire,  with  his  head  thrown  back  and  with  smoke  pour- 
ing out  of  his  mouth.  The  poor  fellow,  who  had  never 
heard  of  tobacco  nor  seen  a  pipe  before,  thought  his  master 
was  on  fire,  and  ran,  in  great  terror,  for  water  to  put  him  out ! 
Before  Sir  Walter  had  time  to  explain,  a  cold  bucketful  was 
dashed  over  him,  and  he  was  drenched  from  head  to  foot. 

4.  But  very  soon  the  old  servant  got  used  to  seeing  peo- 
ple with  smoke  coming  out  of  their  mouths,  in  his  master's 


54  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

house.  Then  all  the  young  nobles  of  the  court  began  to 
smoke  because  the  famous  Sir  Walter  did.  He  was  a 
very  accomplished  smoker  ;  he  even  claimed  that  he  could 
tell,  to  a  grain's  weight,  how  much  smoke  came  from  his  pipe. 

5.  "  Prove  it,  Sir  Walter,"  the  Queen  said  to  him  one 
day.  "  Your  Majesty  shall  see  the  proof,"  he  replied.  And 
having  weighed  carefully  the  tobacco  he  put  into  his  pipe, 
he  smoked  it  in  her  presence.  He  then  put  the  ashes  on 
the  scale,  and  found  that  they  weighed  much  less. 

6.  "  Truly,  Sir  Walter,"  laughed  Elizabeth,  "  you  have 
carried  your  point ;  for  the  difference  in  weight  shows  in- 
deed how  much  has  passed  away  in  the  smoke." 

7.  But  while  tobacco  was  held  in  such  high  favor,  the 
other  plant  —  the  poor,  homely,  useful  potato  —  was  long 
looked  upon  with  contempt ;  like  those  plain,  unpretending 
persons  whom  we  are  so  apt  to  slight  at  first,  but  who  often 
turn  out  to  be  our  best  friends. 

8.  Sir  Walter  found  plenty  of  people  ready  to  use  his 
tobacco,  but  few  willing  to  eat  his  potato.  He  urged  its 
cultivation  in  England  ;  "  because,"  said  he,  "  when  the 
corn-harvest  fails,  as  it  so  often  does,  then  the  people  need 
not  starve  if  they  have  plenty  of  potatoes.'' 

9.  The  Queen  listened  to  him,  and  caused  the  new  veg- 
etable to  be  served  up  at  her  own  table,  when  the  grand 
people  who  dined  with  her  were  obliged  to  eat  of  it.  To 
revenge  themselves  upon  the  innocent  potato,  they  went 
away  and  spread  a  report  that  it  was  actually  poisonous. 

10.  There  was  some  show  of  foundation  for  this  false 
report,  the  potato  belonging  to  the  same  order  as  the  dead- 
ly nightshade  and  other  poisonous  plants.  So,  in  spite  of 
all  that  even  the  Queen  could  do,  the  English  people  re- 
fused to  accept  it  as  wholesome  food,  and  it  was  left  for 
the  pigs. 

11.  Not  until  the  reign  of  King  Louis  XVI.  of  France 
were  the  real  virtues  of  this  vegetable  made  known  to  the 
world.  In  this  reism  there  lived  a  man  who  was  verv 
successful  in  growing  plants  for  food.     He  found  the  potato 


HIAWATHA'S   HUNTING.  55 

very  different  from  the  mealy  palatable  root  which  we  now 
know  and  like  so  well ;  but  lie  felt  sure  that,  with  cultiva- 
tion, it  could  be  made  a  great  blessing  to  the  country. 

12.  People  laughed  at  him  for  his  pains.  But  he  went 
on  growing  the  potato  till  he  had  brought  it  to  perfection. 
Even  then,  no  one  would  have  eaten  it  if  the  King  had 
not  taken  its  part.  The  King  had  large  pieces  of  ground 
planted  with  it,  and  he  went  about  with  the  flower  of  the 
potato  in  his  button-hole. 

13.  No  one  dared  laugh  at  the  King ;  and  when  he  said 
potatoes  were  to  be  eaten,  people  began  to  find  out  how 
good  and  wholesome  they  were. 

14.  By  degrees  they  were  more  and  more  liked.  In 
these  days  there  is  no  vegetable  that  is  so  highly  prized. 
We  could  not  well  do  without  the  potato  ;  but  we  might 
dispense  <¥itli  tobacco. 


IX.  —  HIA  WATHA'S  HUNTING. 

i. 

THEN  the  little  Hiawatha 
Learned  of  every  bird  its  language, 
Learned  their  names  and  all  their  secrets, 
How  they  built  their  nests  in  summer, 
Where  they  hid  themselves  in  winter, 
Talked  with  them  whene'er  he  met  them, 
CaUed  them  "  Hiawatha's  Chickens." 

IT. 

Of  all  beasts  he  learned  the  language, 
Learned  their  names  and  all  their  secrets, 
How  the  beavers  built  their  lodges, 
Where  the  squirrels  hid  their  acorns, 
How  the  reindeer  ran  so  swiftly, 
Why  the  rabbit  was  so  timid, 
Talked  with  them  whene'er  he  met  them, 
Called  them  "  Hiawatha's  Brothers." 


56  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

ill. 
Then  Iagoo  the  great  boaster, 
He  the  marvelous  story-teller, 
He  the  traveler  and  the  talker, 
Made  a  bow  for  Hiawatha ; 
From  a  branch  of  ash  he  made  it, 
From  an  oak-bough  made  the  arrows, 
Tipped  with  flint,  and  winged  with  feathers, 
And  the  cord  he  made  of  deer-skin. 

IV. 

Then  he  said  to  Hiawatha! 
"  Go,  my  son,  into  the  forest, 
Where  the  red  deer  herd  together, 
Kill  for  us  a  famous  roebuck, 
Kill  for  us  a  deer  with  antlers  ! 

v. 
Forth  into  the  forest  straightway 
All  alone  walked  Hiawatha 
Proudly,  with  his  bow  and  arrows  ; 
And  the  birds  sang  round  him,  o'er  him, 
"  Do  not  shoot  us,  Hiawatha  !  " 
Sang  the  robin,  sang  the  bluebird, 
"  Do  not  shoot  us,  Hiawatha  !  " 

VI. 

Up  the  oak-tree,  close  beside  him, 
Sprang  the  squirrel,  lightly  leaping 
In  and  out  among  the  branches  \ 
Coughed  and  chattered  from  the  oak-tree, 
Laughed  and  said,  between  his  laughing, 
"Do  not  shoot  me,  Hiawatha  !  " 

VII. 

And  the  rabbit  from  his  pathway 
Leaped  aside,  and  at  a  distance 
Sat  erect  upon  his  haunches, 
Half  in  fear  and  half  in  frolic, 
Saying  to  the  little  hunter, 
"  Do  not  shoot  me,  Hiawatha  !  " 


HIAWATHA'S   HUNTING.  57 

VIII. 

But  he  heeded  not,  nor  heard  them, 
For  his  thoughts  were  with  the  red  deer  ; 
On  their  tracks  his  eyes  were  fastened, 
Leading  downward  to  the  river, 
To  the  ford  across  the  river, 
And  as  one  in  slumber  walked  he. 

IX. 

Hidden  in  the  alder-bushes, 
There  he  waited  till  the  deer  came, 
Till  he  saw  two  antlers  lifted, 
Saw  two  eyes  look  from  the  thicket, 
Saw  two  nostrils  point  to  windward, 
And  the  deer  came  down  the  pathway. 
Flecked  with  leafy  light  and  shadow. 
And  his  heart  within  him  fluttered, 
Trembled  like  the  leaves  above  him, 
Like  the  birch-leaf  palpitated, 
As  the  deer  came  down  the  pathway. 

x. 

Then,  upon  one  knee  uprising, 
Hiawatha  aimed  an  arrow ; 
Scarce  a  twig  moved  with  his  motion, 
Scarce  a  leaf  was  stirred  or  rustled, 
But  the  wary  roebuck  darted, 
Stamped  with  all  his  hoofs  together, 
Listened  with  one  foot  uplifted, 
Leaped  as  if  to  meet  the  arrow ; 
Ah  !  the  singing,  fatal  arrow, 
Like  a  wasp  it  buzzed,  and  stung  him. 

XI. 

Dead  he  lay  there  in  the  forest, 
By  the  ford  across  the  river ; 
Beat  his  timid  heart  no  longer ; 
But  the  heart  of  Hiawatha 
Throbbed  and  shouted  and  exulted, 
As  he  bore  the  red  deer  homeward. 

Longfellow. 


58  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

X.  —  IN   WANT  OF  A   PLACE. 

Mr.  Lawrence  Newt,  Merchant      Gabriel  Bennett,  in  Want  of  a  Place, 
Scene.  —  Mr.  Newt's  Counting-Room. 

f^\  ABEIEL  {enters).     May  I  see  Mr.  Newt,  sir  ? 

VJJT  Mr.  Newt    That  is  my  name.    Please  be  short.    It 's 

packet  day. 

G.     Please,  sir,  I  want  a  place. 

Mr.  N.     What  kind  of  a  place  ? 

G.     In  a  store,  sir. 

Mr.  N.     I  Ve  no  place  for  you. 

G.     Have  n't  you  ?     Excuse  me. 

Mr.  N.  Wait.  Sit  down  while  I  finish  these  letters ; 
then  we  11  talk  about  it. 

G.  {aside).  0,  how  nice  it  would  be  to  have  something 
to  do  —  to  earn  my  own  living  —  in  such  a  place  as  this  ! 
How  glad  they  would  be  at  home  ! 

Mr.  N.  {to  clerk).  Thomas,  please  have  these  letters  cop- 
ied. Brisk  is  the  word  this  morning,  you  know.  —  Now, 
young  man,  tell  me  what  you  want. 

G.  My  father  's  been  unfortunate,  sir,  and  I  want  to  do 
something  for  myself.    He  advised  me  to  come  to  you,  sir. 

Mr.  N.     Why  to  me  ? 

G.  He  said  you  might  give  me  good  advice  if  you 
could  n't  give  me  a  place. 

Mr.  N.     Been  unfortunate,  has  he  ? 

G.     Yes,  sir. 

Mr.  N.     Lost  his  health  ? 

G.     No,  sir. 

Mr.  N.     Broken  a  leg  ? 

G.     No,  sir. 

Mr.  N.     Daughter  married  a  drunkard  ? 

G.     No,  sir. 

Mr.  N.     Lost  his  friends  ?  or  his  reputation  ? 

G.     He  has  lost  his  money,  sir. 

Mr.  N.  O,  ho  !  his  money  !  That  's  what  you  call  un- 
fortunate. 


IN   WANT   OF   A   PLACE.  59 

G.     Is  n't  that  enough  so  ? 

Mr.  N.  Think  a  moment ;  —  money,  —  has  your  father 
anything  else  he  could  so  well  spare  ?  Has  he  any  super- 
fluous boy  or  girl  ? 

G.     I  think  not ! 

Mr.  JV.     *A  useless  arm  ? 

G.     0  no  ! 

Mr.  N.  Or  his  eyesight,  or  his  honor,  —  could  he  do 
without  these  ?  Come,  what  is  there  he  could  better  lose 
than  money  ? 

G.  I  suppose  worse  things  could  happen  to  us  than 
poverty. 

Mr.  N.  Is  it  possible  !  Why,  then,  when  people  speak 
of  a  man  being  unfortunate,  do  they  always  mean  that  he 
has  lost  property?  —  as  if  property  were  the  only  really 
good  thing  in  the  world  !  —  What  's  your  name  ? 

G.     Gabriel  Bennett. 

Mr.  N.  You  look  like  a  good,  strong  boy,  Gabriel  Have 
you  ever  been  in  a  store  ? 

G.     No  ;  I  only  left  school  last  week.     I  left  because  — 

Mr.  N.  Because  your  father  was  unfortunate.  I  under- 
stand. Well,  the  loss  of  money  is  a  misfortune,  since  it 
involves  the  loss  of  other  things.  So,  you  did  n't  wish  to 
leave  school,  eh  ? 

G.  0,  sir  !  if  I  only  could  have  kept  on !  But  of 
course  I  could  n't.     I  must  earn  my  own  living  now. 

Mr.  N.  Ay,  ay,  and  I  've  no  doubt  that  will  prove  your 
best  education.  It  will  give  you  experience,  knowledge 
of  the  world,  character.  Manhood  is  better  than  Greek 
Self-reliance  is  worth  more  to  a  man  than  Latin. 

G.     I  'd  rather  have  them  and  Greek  and  Latin  too. 

Mr.  N.     But  what  if  you  cannot  ? 

G.  {laughing).     Then  I  '11  take  what  I  can  get. 

Mr.  N.  That  's  the  way  to  talk !  When  the  man  sent 
for  cake,  —  "  John,"  says  he,  "  if  you  can't  get  cake,  get 
smelts."     He  was  a  wise  man. 

G.     But  what  if  I  can't  even  get  smelts  ? 


60 


THE   FIFTH   HEADER. 


Mr.  N.     Eh  ? 
G.     I  mean,  —  a  place. 

Mr.  JV.     Ha,  ha  !    Well !  we  '11  see  about  that.  —  Thomas 
Tray,  this  is  our  youngest  clerk,  Gabriel  Bennett.    Gabriel, 


this  is  our  head  clerk,  Mr.  Tray.  1  hope  you  will  get  along 
well  together.  Gabriel,  mind  Thomas  !  Thomas,  be  good 
to  Gabriel! 

G.     0,  sir  !  what  will  my  father  say  ? 

Mr.  N.  Not  that  he  is  unfortunate,  I  hope,  as  long  as  he 
has  such  a  son  as  you !  Introduce  him  to  the  other  clerks, 
Thomas,  and  give  him  a  stool.  {Gabriel  and  clerk  go  out.) 
—  Am  not  I  a  fortunate  man  ?  I  'd  rather  do  a  good  turn 
for  a  lad  like  that  than  make  a  thousand  dollars. 

G.   W.  Curtis,  —  Adapted. 


THE   MILKMAID.  61 


XI.  —  THE  MILKMAID. 


A  MILKMAID,  who  poised  a  full  pail  on  her  head, 
Thus  mused  on  her  prospects  in  life,  it  is  said  : 
"  Let 's  see  —  I  should  think  that  this  milk  would  procure 
One  hundred  good  eggs,  or  fourscore  to  be  sure. 


ii. 


"  Well,  then  —  stop  a  bit  —  it  must  not  be  forgotten, 
Some  of  these  may  be  broken,  and  some  may  be  rotten  ; 
But  if  twenty  for  accidents  should  be  detached, 
It  will  leave  me  just  sixty  sound  eggs  to  be  hatched. 

in. 

"  Well  —  sixty  sound  eggs  —  no,  sound  chickens  I  mean  ; 
Of  these  some  may  die  —  we  '11  suppose  seventeen  ;  — 
Seventeen  !  —  not  so  many  —  say  ten  at  the  most, 
Which  will  leave  fifty  chickens  to  boil  or  to  roast. 

IV. 

"  But,  then,  there  's  their  barley  :  how  much  will  they  need? 
Why,  they  take  but  one  grain  at  a  time  when  they  feed ; 
So  that 's  a  mere  trifle  ;  —  now,  then,  let  us  see, 
At  a  fair  market  price,  how  much  money  there  '11  be. 


"  Six  shillings  a  pair  —  five  —  four  —  three-and-six ; 
To  prevent  all  mistakes,  that  low  price  I  will  fix  ; 
Now,  what  will  that  make  1  —  fifty  chickens  I  said  — 
Fifty  times  three-and-sixpence  —  I'll  ask  Brother  Ned. 

VI. 

"  0,  but  stop  !  —  three-and-sixpence  a  pair  I  must  sell  'em 
"Well,  a  pair  is  a  couple  —  now,  then,  let  us  tell  'em ; 
A  couple  in  fifty  will  go  —  (my  poor  brain  !)  — 
Why,  just  a  score  times,  and  five  pair  will  remain. 


62  THE   FIFTH   HEADER. 

vu.     „ 
*  Twenty-five  pair  of  fowls  —  now  how  plaguesome  it  is 
That  I  can't  reckon  up  as  much  money  as  this  ! 
Well,  there  's  no  use  in  trying  ;  so  let 's  give  a  guess  ; 
I  will  say  twenty  pounds,  and  it  can't  be  much  less. 

VIII. 

"  Twenty  pounds,  I  am  certain,  will  buy  me  a  cow. 
Thirty  geese,  two  turkeys,  and  eight  pigs,  anyhow  ; 
Now,  if  these  turn  out  well,  at  the  end  of  the  year 
I  shall  fill  both  my  pockets  with  guineas,  't  is  clear. 

IX. 

"  Then  I  '11  bid  that  old  tumble-down  hovel  good-by ; 
My  mother  she  '11  scold,  and  my  sisters  they  '11  cry  ; 
But  I  won't  care  a  crow's  egg  for  all  they  can  say  ; 
I  sha'  n't  go  to  stop  with  such  beggars  as  they  !  " 

x. 

But  forgetting  her  burden,  when  this  she  had  said, 
The  maid  superciliously  tossed  up  her  head ; 
When,  alas  for  her  prospects  !  her  milk-pail  descended  ; 
And  so  all  her  schemes  for  the  future  were  ended. 

XI. 

This  moral,  I  think,  may  be  safely  attached  : 
Reckon  not  on  your  chickens  before  they  are  hatched. 

Jeffreys  Taylor, 


EXERCISE. 

1.  A  milkmaid  poised  a  full  pail  on  her  head. 

2.  She  mused  on  her  prospects  in  life. 

3.  This  milk  will  procure  fourscore  good  eggs. 

4.  How  plaguesome  it  is  that  I  can't  reckon  up  so  much  money. 

5.  I  will  bid  that  tumble-doivn  hovel  good-by. 

6.  She  forgot  her  burden  when  she  had  said  this. 

7.  The  maid  superciliously  tossed  up  her  head. 

8.  Her  milk-pail  descended;  and  so  all  her  schemes  for  the  future 

were  ended. 


THE   CAPTURE   OF   QUEBEC.  03 

XI I.  —  THE  CAPTURE  OF  QUEBEC. 

IT  Mas  towards  the  last  of  June,  1759,  that  the  English 
army  under  General  Wolfe  landed  on  the  Island  of 
Orleans,  a  few  miles  below  Quebec.  Here  Wolfe  had  an 
opportunity  to  examine  the  difficulties  he  had  to  overcome. 
He  perceived  that  they  were  very  great,  but  declared  to 
his  friends  that  he  would  either  take  the  city  or  die  in 
the  attempt. 

2.  He  devised  various  schemes,  and  made  several  efforts, 
but  without  guccess.  Montcalm,  the  French  commander, 
was  exceedingly  vigilant,  and  even  the  confident  spirit  of 
Wolfe  began  to  be  dejected. 

3.  But  at  length  a  narrow  path  was  discovered,  by 
which  the  soldiers  might  climb  the  heights  of  Abraham, 
and  thus  overlook  the  forts  and  the  town.  Wolfe  knew 
that  if  he  could  get  possession  of  these  heights,  he  should 
obtain  a  great  advantage.  Accordingly,  he  resolved  to 
make  the  attempt.  But  it  was  necessary  that  the  enter- 
prise should  be  conducted  with  the  greatest  secrecy. 

4.  In  the  stillness  of  night,  a  part  of  the  army  landed 
at  the  foot  of  the  cliff  which  overhung  the  river.  They 
were  ready  to  climb  the  rocks  by  daybreak.  Wolfe  was 
himself  among  them,  and  they  began  their  difficult  task. 

5.  Clambering  up  the  steep,  they  caught  hold  of  roots> 
bushes,  and  angles  of  the  rocks,  and  at  length  stood  safe 
upon  the  plain  above.  Before  sunrise  the  whole  army  had 
gained  the  heights,  and  were  all  arranged  under  their  sev- 
eral leaders. 

6.  When  Montcalm  heard  of  all  this,  he  thought  it  im- 
possible, and  would  not  believe  the  story  ;  but  he  soon 
found  it  to  be  true.  Knowing  that  he  must  now  come 
to  battle,  he  drew  out  his  men  upon  the  plain  in  front 
of  the  English  army. 

7.  When  all  was  ready,  the  French  advanced  briskly. 
The  English  stood  still,  and  received  them  with  a  dread- 
ful fire.     A  fierce  engagement  followed,  and  after  a  long 


64  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

struggle  the  French  were  defeated.     Montcalm  and  Wolfe 
were  both  mortally  wounded. 

8.  General  Wolfe  died  on  the  field  of  battle.  He  had 
received  a  bullet  in  his  wrist,  and  another  in  his  leg  ;  but 
he  concealed  these  wounds,  and  pressed  into  the  thickest 
of  the  fight.  But  by  and  by  he  was  shot  in  the  body,  and 
carried  off  the  field. 

9.  When  he  was  dying,  he  heard  some  one  say,  "They  fly! 
they  fly ! "  "  AVho  fly  ? "  said  he.  "  The  French,"  was  the 
answer.     "  Then  I  die  contented,"  saidihe  hero,  and  expired. 

10.  Five  days  after  this  battle,  Quebec  surrendered  to 
the  English,  and  it  has  ever  since  remained  in  their  pos- 
session. S.  G.  Goodrich. 


XIII.  — THE  CHAMELEON. 

i. 

OFT  has  it  been  my  lot  to  mark 
A  proud,  conceited,  talking  spark, 
With  eyes  that  hardly  served  at  most 
To  guard  their  master  'gainst  a  post ; 
Yet  round  the  world  the  blade  has  been, 
To  see  whatever  could  be  seen. 

ii. 
Returning  from  his  finished  tour, 
Grown  ten  times  perter  than  before, 
Whatever  word  you  chance  to  drop, 
The  traveled  fool  your  mouth  wTill  stop  : 
"  Sir,  if  my  judgment  you  '11  allow  — 
I  've  seen  —  and  sure  I  ought  to  know/' 
So  begs  you  'd  pay  a  due  submission, 
And  acquiesce  in  his  decision. 

in. 
Two  travelers  of  such  a  cast, 
As  o'er  Arabia's  wilds  they  passed, 
And  on  their  way,  in  friendly  chat, 
Now  talked  of  this,  and  then  of  that, 


THE   CHAMELEON.  65 

Discoursed  awhile,  'mongst  other  matter. 
Of  the  chameleon's  form  and  nature. 

IV. 

••  A  stranger  animal,"  cries  one, 
"  Sure  never  lived  beneath  the  sun  ; 
A  lizard's  body,  lean  and  long, 
A  fish's  head,  a  serpent's  tongue, 
Its  foot  with  triple  claw  disjoined  ; 
And  what  a  length  of  tail  behind  ! 
How  slow  its  pace  !  and  then  its  hue  — 
Who  ever  saw  so  fine  a  blue  !  "  — 

v. 
"  Hold  there,"  the  other  quick  replies, 
"  'T  is  green  ;  I  saw  it  with  these  eyes, 
As  late  with  open  mouth  it  lay, 
And  warmed  it  in  the  sunny  ray  : 
Stretched  at  its  ease  the  beast  I  viewed, 
And  saw  it  eat  the  air  for  food." 

VI. 

"  I  've  seen  it,  sir,  as  well  as  you, 
And  must  again  affirm  it  blue  ; 
At  leisure  I  the  beast  surveyed 
Extended  in  the  cooling  shade." 

VII. 

"  'T  is  green,  't  is  green,  sir,  I  assure  ye." 
"  Green  !  "  cries  tha  other  in  a  fury  : 
"  Why,  sir,  d'  ye  think  I  've  lost  my  eyes  ? ' 
"  'T  were  no  great  loss,"  the  friend  replies ; 
"  For  if  they  always  serve  you  thus, 
You  '11  find  them  of  but  little  use." 

VIII. 

So  high  at  last  the  contest  rose, 
From  words  they  almost  came  to  blows  : 
When,  luckily,  came  by  a  third  ; 
To  him  the  question  they  referred, 
And  begged  he  'd  tell  them,  if  he  knew, 
Whether  the  thing  was  green  or  blue. 


66  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

IX. 

u  Sirs,"  cries  the  umpire,  "  cease  your  pother 

The  creature  's  neither  one  nor  t'  other. 

I  caught  the  animal  last  night, 

And  viewed  it  o'er  by  candle-light ; 

I  marked  it  well  ;  't  was  black  as  jet. 

You  stare  ;  but,  sirs,  I  've  got  it  yet, 

And  can  produce  it."     "  Pray,  sir,  do  \ 

I  '11  lay  my  life  the  thing  is  blue." 

•'  And  I  '11  oe  sworn,  that  when  you  've  seen 

The  reptile,  you  '11  pronounce  him  green." 

x. 
"  Well,  then,  at  once  to  end  the  doubt," 
Replies  the  man,  "  I  '11  turn  him  out  ; 
And  when  before  your  eyes  I  've  set  him, 
If  you  don't  find  him  black,  I  '11  eat  him." 
He  said  ;  and  full  before  their  sight 
Produced  the  beast,  and  lo  !  —  't  was  white. 

XI, 

Both  stared  ;  the  man  looked  wondrous  wise  : 
"  My  children,"  the  chameleon  cries 
(Then  first  the  creature  found  a  tongue), 
"  You  all  are  right,  and  all  are  wrong  : 
When  next  you  talk  of  what  you  view, 
Think  others  see  as  well  as  you  : 
Nor  wonder  if  you  find  that  none 
Prefers  your  eyesight  to  his  own." 

Merrick, 


EXERCISE. 

In  the   following  sentences  the  scholar  will  change  as  mam 
words  or  phrases  as  he  can  without  altering  the  sense. 

1.  I  have  often  observed  a  haughty,  vain,  prating  fellow. 

2.  He  returns  from  a  finished  tour,  grown  ten  times  perter  than 
before. 

6.  He  asks  you  to  submit,  and  rest  satisfied  with  his  conclusion. 

4.  Two  travelers  of  such  a  cast  passed  over  the  wilds  of  Arabia. 

5.  The  foot  of  a  chameleon  is  with  triple  claw  disjoined. 
*6.  "Sirs,"  cries  the  umpire,  "cease  your  pother*" 


HAYING.  67 

XIV.—  HAYING. 

IT  is  five  o'clock.  The  morning  is  clear  and  fresh.  A 
thin  blue  film  of  mist  hovers  over  the  circuit  of  the 
Housatonic  along  the.  mountain  belt.  A  hundred  birds  — 
yes,  live  hundred  —  are  singing  as  birds  never  sing  except 
in  the  morning. 

2.  In  our  house  the  girls  are  astir,  and  the  mystery  of 
breakfast  is  developing.  The  little  dog  is  so  glad  after  the 
lonesome  night  to  see  you,  that  he  surfeits  you  with  frolic. 
The  men  are  in  the  barn  feeding  the  horses,  and  getting 
everything  ready  for  work. 

3.  Will  it  rain  to-day  ?  The  heavens  overhead  look  like 
it.  But  the  barometer  says,  No.  Then  a  few  rounds  with 
the  scythe  before  breakfast,  just  by  way  of  getting  the  path 
open. 

4.  There  they  go,  a  pretty  pair  of  mowers  !  The  blink- 
ing dew-drops  on  the  grass-tops  wink  at  them  and  pitch 
headlong  under  the  stroke  of  the  swinging  scythe.  How 
low  and  musical  is  the  sound  of  a  scythe  in  its  passage 
through  a  thick  pile  of  grass  !  It  has  a  craunching,  mel- 
low, murmuring  sound,  right  pleasant  to  hear. 

5.  The  grass,  rolled  over  in  a  swath  to  the  left,  green 
and  wet,  lies  like  a  loosely  corded  cable,  vast  and  half 
twined.  Around  the  piece,  step  by  step,  go  the  men,  and 
the  work  is  fairly  laid  out  and  begun. 

6.  There  sounds  the  horn  !  Breakfast  is  ready.  All  the 
children  are  farmer's  boys  for  the  occasion.  Were  Sevas- 
topol built  of  bread  and  cakes,  these  are  the  very  engineers 
who  would  take  it. 

7.  Bless  their  appetites  !  It  does  one  good  to  see  grow- 
ing children  eat  with  a  real  hearty  appetite.  Mountain 
air,  a  free  foot  in  grassy  fields  and  open  groves,  plain  food 
and  enough  of  it,  —  these  things  kill  the  lilies  in  the 
cheek  and  bring  forth  roses. 

8.  But  we  must  haste,  and  make  hay  while  the  sun 
shines.     Already   John    Dargan    is    there    whetting    his 


68  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

scythe,  —  John,  tough  as  a  knot,  strong  as  steel,  famous  in 
all  the  region  for  ploughing,  and  equally  skilful  at  mowing, 
turning  his  furrow  and  cutting  his  swrath  alike  smoothly 
and  evenly.  If  Ireland  has  any  more  such  farmers  to 
spare,  let  them  come  on. 

9.  The  Man  of  the  Farm  strikes  in  first ;  John  follows, 
and  away  they  go,  up  the  hill,  toward  the  sun.  The  grass 
is  full  of  dew,  which  quivers  in  the  sunlight,  and  winks 
and  flashes  by  turns  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  Bound 
and  round  the  field  they  go,  with  steady  swing,  the  grass- 
plat  growing  less  at  every  turn. 

10.  Meanwhile  all  the  boys  have  been  at  work  spread- 
ing the  grass.  The  hay-cocks  of  yesterday  have  been 
opened.     The  noon  comes  on.     It  is  time  to  house  the  hay. 

11.  The  day  passes  and  the  night.  With  another  morn- 
ing,, and  that  Saturday  morning,  comes  up  the  sun  without 
a  single  cloud  to  wipe  his  face  upon.  The  air  is  clear  and 
crystal.    No  mist  on  the  river.    No  fleece  on  the  mountains 

12.  Yet  the  barometer  is  sinking,  —  has  been  sinking  all 
night.  It  has  fallen  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  inch,  and 
continues  slowly  to  fall.  Our  plans  must  be  laid  accord- 
ingly. We  will  cut  the  clover,  and  prepare  to  get  in  all  of 
yesterday's  mowing  before  two  o'clock. 

13.  One  load  we  roll  in  before  dinner.  While  catching 
our  hasty  meal,  affairs  grow  critical.  The  sun  is  hidden. 
The  noon  is  dark.     All  hands  are  summoned. 

14.  Now  if  you  wish  to  see  pretty  working,  follow  the 
cart ;  —  the  long  forks  leap  into  the  cocks  of  hay ;  to  a 
backward  lift  they  spring  up,  poise  a  moment  in  the  air 
shoot  forward,  are  caught  upon  the  load  by  the  nimble 
John,  and  in  a  twinkling  are  in  their  place. 

15.  We  hear  thunder  !  Lii>-htnin<>s  flash  on  the  horizon. 
Jim  and  Frank  and  Henry  Sumner  are  springing  at  the 
clover,  rolling  it  into  heaps  and  dressing  it  down  so  as  to 
shed  rain.     There  are  no  lazy-bones  there  ! 

16.  Even  we  ourselves  wake  up  and  go  to  work.  AH 
the  girls  and  ladies  come  forth  to  the  fray.     Delicate  bauds 


b 


HAYING.  69 

are  making  lively  work,  raking  up  the  dispersed  grass,  and 
Hying  with  right  nimble  steps  here  and  there,  bent  upon 
cheating  the  rain  of  its  expected  prey. 

17.  And  now  the  long  windrows  are  formed.  The  last 
load  of  hay  from  the  other  fields  has  just  rolled  triumph- 
antly into  the  barn  !  Down  jumps  John,  with  fork  in  hand, 
and  rolls  up  the  windrows  into  cocks.  We  follow7  and  glean 
with  the  rake.     The  last  one  is  fashioned. 

18.  A  drop  pats  down  on  my  face,  —  another,  and 
another.  Look  at  those  baseless  mountains  that  tower  in 
the  west,  black  as  ink  at  the  bottom,  glowing  like  snow  at 
the  top  edges  !  Far  in  the  north  the  rain  has  begun  to 
streak  down  upon  old  Greylock  ! 

19.  But  the  sun  is  shining  -through  the  shower,  and 
changing  it  to  a  golden  atmosphere,  in  which  the  mountain 
lifts  up  its  head  like  a  glorified  martyr  amid  his  persecu- 
tions !  Only  a  look  can  we  spare,  and  all  of  us  run  for  the 
house,  and  in  good  time. 

20.  Down  comes  the  flood,  and  every  drop  is  musical. 
We  pity  the  neighbors  .who,  not  warned  by  a  barometer, 
are  racing  and  chasing  to  secure  their  outlying  crop. 

H.  W.  Beecher. 


EXERCISE. 

1     A  thin  mist  hovers  over  the  river. 

2.  We  will  cut  the  clover,  and  prepare  to  get  in  yesterday's  mow- 

ing. 

3.  The  heavens  overhead  look  like  rain. 

4.  These  things  kill  the  lilies  in  the  cheek  and  bring  forth  roses. 

5.  We  must  haste,  and  make  hay  while  the  sun  shines. 

6.  They  poise  a  moment  in  the  air, 

7.  All  the  girls  and  ladies  come  forth  to  the  fray.     [Contest.] 
f\  Delicate  hands  are  raking  up  the  dispersed  grass. 

9.  They  are  flying  with  right  nimble  steps  here  and  there. 

10.  Look  at  the  mountains  that  toicer  m  the  west, 

11.  All  of  us  run  for  the  house,  and  in  good  time. 

12.  Down  comes  the  flood,  and  every  drop  is  musical.     [Pleasing  to 

the  ear.] 
1.3.    The  neighbors  are  racing  and  chasing  to  secure  their  hay. 


70  THE   FIFTH   READER. 


XV.  — BRING  BACK  MY  FLOWERS. 


A  CHILD  sat  by  a  limpid  stream, 
And  gazed  upon  the  tide  beneath  • 
Upon  her  cheek  was  joy's  bright  beam, 

And  on  her  brow  a  blooming  wreath. 
Her  lap  was  filled  with  fragrant  flowers, 

And,  as  the  clear  brook  babbled  by. 
She  scattered  down  the  rosy  showers, 

With  many  a  wild  and  joyous  cry, 
And  laughed  to  see  the  mingling  tide 
Upon  its  onward  progress  glide. 

ii. 

And  time  flew  on,  and  flower  by  flower 

Was  cast  upon  the  sunny  stream  ; 
But  when  the  shades  of  eve  did  lower, 

She  woke  up  from  her  blissful  dream. 
"  Bring  back  my  flowers  !  "  she  wildly  cried  ; 

"  Bring  back  the  flowers  I  flung  to  thee  !  " 
But  echo's  voice  alone  replied, 

As  danced  the  streamlet  down  the  lea  ; 
And  still,  amid  night's  gloomy  hours, 
In  vain  she  cried,  "  Bring  back  my  flowers  !  " 

in. 

0  maiden,  who  on  time's  swift  stream 

Dost  gayly  see  the  moments  flee, 
In  this  poor  child's  delusive  dream 

An  emblem  may  be  found  of  thee  ! 
Each  moment  is  a  perfumed  rose, 

Into  thy  hand  by  mercy  given, 
That  thou  its  fragrance  might  dispose 

And  let  its  incense  rise  to  heaven ; 
Else  when  death's  shadow  o'er  thee  lowers, 
Thy  heart  will  wail,  "  Bring  back  my  flowers  !  " 


THE   BOSTON   MASSACRE.  71 

TZVI.  —  THII  BOSTON  MASSACRE. 

IT  was  now  the  3d  of  March,  1770.  The  sunset  music 
of  the  British  regiments  was  heard,  as  usual,  through- 
out the  town.  The, shrill  fife  and  rattling  drum  awoke  the 
echoes  in  King  Street,  while  the  last  ray  of  sunshine  was 
lingering  on  the  cupola  of  the  town-house. 

2.  And  now,  all  the  sentinels  were  posted.  One  of  them 
marched  up  and  down  before  the  custom-house,  treading  a 
short  path  through  the  snow,  and  longing  for  the  time  when 
he  would  be  dismissed  to  the  warm  fireside  of  the  guard- 
room. 

3.  In  the  course  of  the  evening  there  were  two  or  three 
slight  commotions,  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  trouble 
was  at  hand.  Small  parties  of  young  men  stood  at  the 
corners  of  the  streets,  or  walked  along  the  narrow  pave- 
ments. Squads  of  soldiers,  who  were  dismissed  from  duty, 
passed  by  them,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  with  the  regular  step 
which  they  had  learned  at  the  drill.  Whenever  these  en- 
counters took  place,  it  appeared  to  be  the  object  of  the 
young  men  to  treat  the  soldiers  with  as  much  incivility  as 
possible. 

4  "  Turn  out,  you  lobster-backs  ! "  one  would  say. 
"  Crowd  them  off  the  sidewalks ! "  another  would  cry. 
"  A  red-coat  has  no  right  in  Boston  streets." 

5  "  0,  you  rebel  rascals  ! "  perhaps  the  soldiers  would 
reply,  glaring  fiercely  at  the  young  men.  "%Some  day  or 
other  we  '11  make  our  way  through  Boston  streets,  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet ! " 

6.  Once  or  twice  such  disputes  as  these  brought  on  a 
scuffle  ;  which  passed  off,  however,  without  attracting  much 
notice.  About  eight  o'clock,  for  some  unknown  cause, 
an  alarm-bell  rang  loudly  and  hurriedly 

7  At  the  sound  many  people  ran  out  of  their  houses, 
supposing  it  to  be  an  alarm  of  fire.  But  there  were  no 
flames  to  be  seen,  nor  was  there  any  smell  of  smoke  in 
the  clear,  frosty  air  ,  so  that  most  of  the  townsmen  went 


72  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

back  to  their  own  firesides.      Others,  who  were  youngei 
and  less  prudent,  remained  in  the  streets. 

8.  Later  in  the  evening,  not  far  from  nine  o'clock,  sev- 
eral young  men  passed  down  King  Street  towards  the  cus- 
tom-house. When  they  drew  near  the  sentinel,  he  halted 
on  his  post,  and  took  his  musket  from  his  shoulder,  ready 
to  present  the  bayonet  at  their  breasts. 

"  Who  goes  there  ? "  he  cried,  in  the  gruff  tones  of  a 
soldier's  challenge. 

9.  The  young  men,  being  Boston  boys,  felt  as  if  they 
had  a  right  to  walk  in  their  ow7n  streets,  without  being 
accountable  to  a  British  red-coat.  They  made  some  rude 
answer  to  the  sentinel.  There  wras  a  dispute,  or,  perhaps, 
a  scuffle.  Other  soldiers  heard  the  noise,  and  ran  hastily 
from  the  barracks,  to  assist  their  comrade. 

10.  At  the  same  time  many  of  the  towns-people  rushed 
into  King  Street,  by  various  avenues,  and  gathered  in  a 
crowd  about  the  custom-house.  It  seemed  wonderful  how 
such  a  multitude  had  started  up,  all  of  a  sudden. 

11.  The  wrongs  and  insults  which  the  people  had  been 
suffering  for  many  months  now  kindled  them  into  a  rage. 
They  threw  snowballs  and  lumps  of  ice  at  the  soldiers. 
A.s  the  tumult  grew  louder,  it  reached  the  ears  of  Captain 
Preston,  the  officer  of  the  day.  He  immediately  ordered 
eight  soldiers  of  the  main  guard  to  take  their  muskets  and 
follow  him.  They  inarched  across  the  street,  forcing  their 
way  roughly  through  the  crowd,  and  pricking  the  towns- 
people with  their  bayonets. 

12.  A  gentleman  (it  was  Henry  Knox,  afterwards  Gen- 
eral of  the  American  Artillery)  caught  Captain  Preston's 
arm. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  sir,"  exclaimed  he,  "take  heed  what 
you  do,  or  here  will  be  bloodshed  ! " 

13.  "  Stand  aside  ! "  answered  Captain  Preston,  haughtily 
"  Do  not  interfere,  sir.     Leave  me  to  manage  the  affair." 

14.  Arriving  at  the  sentinel's  post,  Captain  Preston  drew 
up  his  men  in  a  semicircle,  with  their  faces  to  the  crowd. 


THE   BOSTON    MASSACRE.  73 

Wlien  the  people  saw  the  officer,  and  beheld  the  threaten- 
ing attitude  with  which  the  soldiers  fronted  them,  their 
rage  became  almost  uncontrollable. 

15.  "  Fire,  you  lobster-backs  !"  bellowed  some. 

"  You  dare  not  fire,  you  cowardly  red-coats,"  cried  others. 

16.  "  Rush  upon  them  !  "  shouted  many  voices.  "  Drive 
the  rascals  to  their  barracks  !  Down  with  them  !  Down 
with  them  !     Let  them  fire,  if  they  dare  I " 

Amid  the  uproar  the  soldiers  stood  glaring  at  the  people 
with  the  fierceness  of  men  whose  trade  was  to  shed  blood. 

17.  0,  what  a  crisis  had  now  arrived !  Up  to  this  very 
moment,  the  angry  feelings  between  England  and  America 
might  have  been 'pacified.  England  had  but  to  stretch  out 
the  hand  of  reconciliation,  and  acknowledge  that  she  had 
hitherto  mistaken  her  rights,  but  would  do  so  no  more. 
Then  the  ancient  bonds  of  brotherhood  would  again  have 
been  knit  together  as  firmly  as  in  old  times. 

18.  But,  should  the  king's  soldiers  shed  one  drop  of 
American  blood,  then  it  was  a  quarrel  to  the  death. 
Never,  never  would  America  rest  satisfied,  until  she 
had  torn  down  the  royal  authority,  and  trampled  it  in 
the  dust. 

19.  "Fire,  if  you  dare,  villains  !"  hoarsely  shouted  the 
people,  while  the  muzzles  of  the  muskets  were  turned 
upon  them  ;  "  you  dare  not  fire  ! " 

20.  They  appeared  ready  to  rush  upon  the  leveled 
bayonets.  Captain  Preston  waved  his  sword,  and  uttered 
a  command  which  could  not  be  distinctly  heard  amid  the 
uproar  of  shouts  that  issued  from  a  hundred  throats.  But 
his  soldiers  deemed  that  he  had  spoken  the  fatal  mandate, 
"  Fire  !  "  The  flash  of  their  muskets  lighted  up  the  street, 
and  the  report  rang  loudly  between  the  edifices. 

21  A  gush  of  smoke  overspread  the  scene.  It  rose 
heavily,  as  if  it  were  loath  to  reveal  the  dreadful  specta- 
cle beneath  it.  Eleven  of  the  sons  of  New  England  lay 
stretched  upon  the  street.  Some,  sorely  wounded,  were 
Struggling  to  rise  again.     Others  stirred  not,  nor  groaned. 


74  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

for  they  were  past  all  pain.  Blood  was  streaming  upon 
the  snow;  and  that  purple  stain,  in  the  midst  of  King 
Street,  though  it  melted  away  in  the  next  day's  sun,  was 
never  forgotten  nor  forgiven  by  the  people. 

N.  Hawthorne. 


XVII.  —A   SONG  FROM  THE  SUDS. 

i. 

QUEEN  of  my  tub,  I  merrily  sing, 
While  the  white  foam  rises  high ; 
And  sturdily  wash,  and  rinse,  and  wring, 

And  fasten  the  clothes  to  dry ; 
Then  out  in  the  free  fresh  air  they  swing, 
Under  the  sunny  sky. 

ii. 

I  wish  we  could  wash  from  our  hearts  and  souls 

The  stains  of  the  week  away, 
And  let  water  and  air  by  their  magic  make 

Ourselves  as  pure  as  they ; 
Then  on  earth  there  would  be  indeed 

A  glorious  washing-day  ! 

in. 
Along  the  path  of  a  useful  life 

Will  heart' s-ease  ever  bloom  ; 
The  busy  mind  has  no  time  to  think 

Of  sorrow,  or  care,  or  gloom  ; 
And  anxious  thoughts  may  be  swept  away? 

As  we  busily  wield  a  broom. 

IV. 

I  am  glad  a  task  to  me  is  given, 

To  labor  at,  day  by  day ; 
For  it  brings  me  health,  and  strength,  and  hope, 

And  1  cheerfully  learn  to  say,  — 

"  Head,  you  may  think  ;  Heart,  you  may  feel, 

But,  Hand,  you  shall  work  alway." 

Louisa  M.  Alcott. 


MY    HUNT   AFTER   THE   BABY. 


XVIII  —  MY  HUNT  AFTER   THE  BABY. 

Ill  AD  been  to  the  corn-lot  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  few 
roasting-ears  for  supper ;  but  there  were  none  ripe 
enough,  so  I  walked  slowdy  back  to  the  house,  with  my 
hands  under  my  apron  to  save  them  from  sunburn  ;  and  the 
moment  I  stepped  into  the  sitting-room  I  sawT  the  baby 
was  missing. 

2.  The  baby  was  one  that  had  been  left  with  us,  —  sister 
Bell  and  me,  —  while  the  dear  mamma  went  to  see  dear  papa, 
sick  in  a  far-away  hospital.  It  was  a  plump,  peachy  little 
thing,  nearly  a  year  old,  named  Maude,  familiarly  called 
Madge,  and  more  familiarly  Midget. 

3.  She  was  full  of  mischief  as  she  could  hold,  crept  all 
about  the  house,  throwing  things  out  of  doors  or  into  the 
fire,  as  came  handiest,  thrust  her  hands  behind  her  and 
screeched  like  a  hyena  if  any  one  approached  to  interfere 
with  her  operations,  and  slept  about  fifteen  minutes  twice 
a  day. 

4.  Her  usual  time  to  be  crawling  around  underfoot  was 
in  the  early  part  of  the  day,  when  the  kitchen-work  was  in 
progress ;  in  the  afternoon,  wdien  the  work  was  all  clone. 
and  we  were  ready  for  a  frolic  with  her  babyship,  the  little 
nuisance  might  generally  be  found  sequestered  in  a  corner, 
hugging  a  bosom  full  of  matches,  or  sticking  postage-stamps 
all  over  her  chubby  arms. 

5.  But  this  time  I  had  left  her  asleep.  She  must  have 
been  asleep,  for  she  did  n*t  wink ;  and  when  the  little  de- 
ceiver was  hoaxing  me  she  ahvays  winked  desperately.  I 
laid  her  on  a  rug  in  a  cool  corner,  and,  leaving  the  door 
open,  walked  down  to  the  corn-field  and  back  again  in 
about  seven  minutes,  as  nearly  as  I  could  judge. 

6.  The  baby  w^as  missing  !  There  w7as  the  print  of  her 
little  moist  head  on  the  pillow,  there  were  the  little  blue 
hints  of  shoes,  just  as  she  had  kicked  them  off'  in  her  play. 
Hurriedly  I  wrent  through  room  after  room,  searching  and 


76  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

calling.     Not  a  glimpse  of  the  little  white  frock,  not  a  lisp 
from  the  prattling  tongue. 

7.  "  Baby  !  baby  !  where  are  you  ?  "  I  cried.  0  dear  Mr. 
T.  B.  Aldrich  !  It  was  n't  our  baby  you  had  in  mind,  was  it, 
when  you  wrote  those  sweet  lines,  — 

"  0  where  is  our  dainty,  our  darling, 
The  daintiest  darling  of  all,  —  Little  Maude  ? " 

8.  Bushing  to  the  head  of  the  stairs,  "  0  Bell ! "  I 
shouted,  "  have  you  seen  baby  ? " 

9.  "  No,  I  have  n't ;  I  guess  not.     Why  ?  " 

10.  I  knew  by  the  way  Bell  spoke  that  she  was  not 
half  awake,  but  her  coolness  annoyed  me. 

11.  "  You  guess  not!  Well,  she  's  lost;  I  went  to  the 
lot  after  roasting-ears,  and  when  —  "A  fretful  exclamation 
from  Bell  interrupted  me. 

12.  "  0  dear  me  !  Have  you  looked  in  the  parlor  ?  I  've 
not  a  doubt  but  she  's  there,  poking  over  my  photograph- 
album.     Do  look,  please,  sis." 

13.  Terror  overmastered  my  desire  to  fling  back  a  snap- 
pish answer  to  this  aggravating  remark.  Down  stairs  again, 
I  threw  open  the  parlor  door,  which,  having  been  tightly 
closed,  I  had  not  before  tried.  All  undisturbed  and  quiet.. 
How  thankful  I  should  have  been  just  then  to  have  found 
everything  topsy-turvy,  the  phantom  and  grass  bouquets 
in  ruins,  and  Bell's  album  in  the  smutty  fingers  of  the 
little  culprit ! 

14.  With  a  groan  I  shut  the  door,  and  commenced  the 
search  anew.  I  opened  all  the  closets  and  presses  that  I 
had  opened  before,  looked  under  the  bureaus  and  sofas, 
and  shook  the  ironing-basket.  All  in  vain,  vain  !  No 
baby,  —  no  Midget ! 

15.  Then  I  ran  out  into  the  currant-bushes,  where  a  few 
tempting  red  bunches  were  still  hanging.  Bell  saw  and 
hailed  me  from  the  chamber-window,  — 

"  Is  n't  that  pestiferous  infant  found  yet  \  " 

16.  I  looked  up  to  see  the  provoking  girl  sitting  by  the 
open  blind,  braiding  her  tangled  hair,  0  so  leisurely! 


MY    HUNT   AFTER  THE    BABY.  77 

17.  "  You  unfeeling  creature  ! "  I  cried  ;  "  will  you  never 
have  done  your  dreadful  hair,  and  come  and  help  me  find 
this  child  ?  " 

18.  "  Have  you  looked  in  the  ash-hole,  and  the  band- 
boxes, and  the  big  churn?"  answered  this  trying  sister  of 
mine  ;  but  I  saw  her  eyes  opening  very  wide,  and  in  two 
minutes  more  she  was  flouncing  about  the  kitchen,  with  her 
unfastened  braids  hanging  about  her  shoulders  in  a  very 
original  style. 

19.  Her  movements  were  peculiar  and  characteristic. 
She  shook  the  door-mat,  jerked  the  pump-handle,  examined 
the  bread-tray  and  the  flour-barrel.  Then  her  eyes  fell 
upon  the  sink-drain. 

20.  "  She  could  n't  have  got  in  there,  now,  could  she  ? " 
questioned  Bell,  with  terror  in  every  feature.  "  The  horrid 
sewer,  you  know  ! "  And  she  looked  a  whole  volume  of 
Victor  Hugo  at  me  in  one.  wretched  instant. 

21.  "Of  course  not !  through  a  four-inch  spout !  and 
put  the  strainer  in  after  her  !  What  a  preposterous  no- 
tion !  "  And  Bell  does  not  know  to  this  day  that,  not  five 
minutes  before  she  came  down,  I  was  working  the  broom- 
handle  down  that  very  spout  with  all  my  might  and  main. 

22.  Out  of  doors  we  went,  examined  the  clumps  of  elder, 
looked  over  the  fence,  up  street,  down  street,  and  finally 
returned  disconsolate  to  the  kitchen. 

23.  "  Midget !  Midget !  you  dear,  precious  little  angel, 
where  are  you  ?  "  moaned  Bell,  dropping  upon  the  settee.  I 
did  not  say,  "  Humph  !  pestiferous  little  angel ! "  for  Bell's 
distress  was  too  genuine  to  be  mocked. 

24.  So,  as  we  sat  with  our  arms  around  each  other,  cry- 
ing, we  heard  a  very  slight  rattling  in  the  direction  of  the 
cook-room  of  the  kitchen,  which  contained  no  furniture 
except  a  stove  and  table.  We  had  glanced  around  this 
room  once  or  twice  ;  but  as  there  seemed  to  be  no  hiding- 
places,  the  thought  of  searching  it  had  never  occurred  to  us. 

25.  The  stove  was  a  large-sized  Peerless,  with  an  oven 
occupying  the  whole  lower  part.     Well,  to  cut  the  story 


78  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

short,  the  baby  was  in  the  oven !  We  knew  it,  Bell  and  I. 
as  soon  as  the  rattling  was  repeated,  and  we  simultaneously 
rushed  for  the  cook-room. 

26.  There  she  sat,  —  the  mischief,  —  bolt  upright  in  the 
oven,  with  her  head  in  the  high  part  and  her  feet  in  the 
low,  treating  herself  to  the  contents  of  a  blackberiy-pie, 
vvhioh  had  been  left  in  from  the  morning's  baking.  She 
had  taken  off  the  upper  crust  whole,  spreading  it  on  her 
bosom  like  a  napkin,  and  was  now  employed  in  picking 
out  the  blackberries,  and  conveying  them  to  her  mouth  one 
by  one.  She  looked  up  at  us,  and  0  such  a  face  !  What 
with  cunning,  fright,  and  blackberry-juice,  I  have  never 
seen  such  a  face  before  or  since. 

27.  Bell  caught  her  out,  kissed  her  comparatively  clean, 
scolding  her  all  the  time.  Then  she  carried  her  to  the  sink, 
and  pumped  water  upon  her  without  the  least  fear  of  wash- 
ing her  clown  the  spout.  As  soon  as  the  little  lady  recov- 
ered her  breath,  she  screamed  furiously,  and  pointed  to  the 
oven  with  decided  demonstrations  of  a  plan  to  return  to 
her  repast. 

28.  Bell  begged  the  privilege  of  putting  her  back  to 
finish  the  pie ;  but  I  steadily  set  my  face  against  such  an 
indulgence,  and,  when  she  and  Midget  both  insisted,  set 
the  matter  at  rest  by  kindling  a  huge  fire  in  the  stove,  and 
making  vigorous  preparations  for  an  early  tea. 

Helen  L.  Bostwick. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  The  moment  I  stepped  into  the  sitting-room  I  saw  the  baby  was 

missing. 

2.  She  screeched  like  a  hyena  if  any  one  approached  to  interfere 

with  her  operations. 
3    Her  usual  time  to  be  crawling  around  was  in  the  early  'part  oj 
the  day. 

4.  She  might  generally  be  found  sequestered  in  a  corner. 

5.  When  she  was  hoaxing  me  she  always  winked  desperately. 

6.  I  desired  to  fling  back  a  snappish  answer  to  this  aggravating 

remark. 

7.  I  shut  the  door  and  commenced  the  search  anew, 


THE   FISHERMEN. 


79 


XIX.  —  THE  FISHERMEN. 


HURRAH  !  the  seaward  breezeb 
Sweep  clown  the  bay  amain  ; 
Heave  up,  my  lads,  the  anchor  ! 

Run  up  the  sail  again  ! 
Leave  to  the  lubber  landsmen 
The  rail-car  and  the  steed  ; 
The  stars  of  heaven  shall  guide  us, 
The  breath  of  heaven  shall  speed. 

ii. 
From  the  hill-top  looks  the  steeple, 

And  the  lighthouse  from  the  sand  ; 
And  the  scattered  pines  are  waving 

Their  farewell  from  the  land. 
One  glance,  my  lads,  behind  us, 

For  the  homes  we  leave  one  sigh, 
Ere  we  take  the  change  and  chances 

Of  the  ocean  and  the  sky. 


80  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

ill. 

Hurrah  for  the  Red  Island,* 

With  the  white  cross  on  its  crown  I 
Hurrah  for  Mecatina,* 

And  its  mountains  bare  and  brown ! 
There  we  '11  drop  our  lines,  and  gather 

Old  Ocean's  treasures  in, 
Where'er  the  mottled  mackerel 

Turns  up  a  steel-dark  fin. 

IV. 

Though  the  mist  upon  our  jackets 

In  the  bitter  air  congeals, 
And  our  lines  wind  stiff  and  slowly 

From  off  the  frozen  reels  ; 
Though  the  fog  be  dark  around  us. 

And  the  storm  blow  high  and  loud 
We  will  whistle  down  the  wild  wind, 

And  laugh  beneath  the  cloud. 

v. 

In  the  darkness  as  in  daylight, 

On  the  water  as  on  land, 
God's  eye  is  looking  on  us, 

And  beneath  us  is  his  hand  ! 
Death  will  find  us  soon  or  later; 

On  the  deck  or  in  the  cot  ; 
And  we  cannot  meet  him  better 

Than  in  working  out  our  lot. 

VI. 

Hurrah!  hurrah  !  the  west  wind 

Comes  freshening  down  the  bay, 
The  rising  sails  are  filling,  — 

Give  way,  my  lads,  give  way  ! 
Leave  the  coward  landsman  clinging 

To  the  dull  earth  like  a  weed,  — 
The  stars  of  heaven  shall  guide  us, 

The  breath  of  heaven  shall  speed. 

/.  G.  Whittle 

*   Islands  in  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence. 


THE   KING   AND   THE   MILLER   OF   MANSFIELD.        81 

XX.  —  THE  KING  AND    THE  MILLER    OF 
MANSFIELD. 

KING  (aside).  No,  no,  this  can  be  no  public  road, 
that 's  certain !  I  am  lost,  quite  lost  indeed.  Of 
what  advantage  is  it  now  to  be  a  king  ?  Night  shows 
me  no  respect.  I  cannot  see  better,  nor  walk  so  well  as 
another  man.  What  is  a  king  ?  Is  he  not  wiser  than 
another  man  ?  Not  without  his  councilors,  I  plainly  find. 
Is  he  not  more  powerful  ?  I  oft  have  been  told  so,  indeed, 
but  what  now  can  my  power  command  ?  Is  he  not  greater 
and  more  magnificent  ?  When  seated  on  his  throne,  and 
surrounded  with  nobles  and  flatterers,  perhaps  he  may 
think  so  ;  but  when  lost  in  a  wood,  alas  !  what  is  he  but 
a  common  man  ?  His  wisdom  knows  not  which  is  north 
and  which  is  south  ;  his  power  a  beggar's  dog  would 
bark  at ;  and  his  greatness  the  beggar  would  not  bow  to. 
And  yet  how  oft  are  we  puffed  up  with  these  false  attri- 
butes !  Well,  in  losing  the  monarch,  I  have  found  the  man. 
(The  report  of  a  gun  is  heard.)  Hark!  some  villain  sure  is 
near  I  What  were  it  best  to  do  ?  Will  my  majesty  pro- 
tect me  ?  No.  Throw  majesty  aside  then,  and  let  man- 
hood do  it. 

Miller  (enters).    I  believe  I  hear  the  rogue.   Who  's  there  ? 

King.     No  rogue,  I  assure  you. 

Miller.  Little  better,  friend,  I  believe.  WTio  fired  that 
gun  ? 

King.     Not  I,  indeed. 

Miller.     You  lie,.  I  believe. 

King  (aside).  Lie !  lie !  How  strange  it  seems  to 
me  to  be  talked  to  in  this  style !  —  Upon  my  word  I 
don't. 

Miller.  Come,  come,  sir,  confess  ;  you  have  shot  one  of 
the  king's  deer,  have  you  not  ? 

King.  No,  indeed ;  I  owe  the  king  more  respect.  I 
heard  a  gun  go  off,  indeed,  and  was  afraid  some  robbers 
might  be  near. 


82  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

Miller.  I  'm  not  bound  to  believe  this,  friend.  Pray, 
who  are  you  ?    What  's  your  name  ? 

King.     Name ! 

Miller.  Name !  yes,  name  !  Why,  you  have  a  name, 
have  you  not  ?  Where  do  you  come  from  ?  What  is  your 
business  here  ? 

King.  These  are  questions  I  have  not  been  used  to, 
honest  man. 

Miller.  May  be  so,  honest  man  ;  but  they  are  questions 
no  honest  man  would  be  afraid  to  answer,  I  think :  so,  if 
you  can  give  no  better  account  of  yourself,  I  shall  make 
bold  —  to  take  you  along  with  me,  if  you  please. 

King.     With  you  !  what  authority  have  you  to  — 

Miller.  The  king's  authority  ;  if  I  must  give  you  an 
account,  sir,  I  am  John  Cockle,  the  miller  of  Mansfield,  one 
of  his  Majesty's  keepers  in  this  forest  of  Sherwood ;  and  I 
will  let  no  suspected  fellow  pass  this  way  that  cannot  give 
a  better  account  of  himself  than  you  have  done,  I  promise 
you. 

King  {aside).  I  must  submit  to  my  own  authority. — 
Very  well,  sir,  I  am  glad  to  hear  the  king  has  so  good  an 
officer ;  and  since  I  find  you  have  his  authority,  I  will  give 
you  a  better  account  of  myself,  if  you  will  do  me  the  favor 
to  hear  it. 

Miller.  It 's  more  than  you  deserve,  I  believe;  but  let's 
hear  what  you  can  say  for  yourself. 

King.  I  have  the  honor  to  belong  to  the  king  as  well 
as  you,  and,  perhaps,  should  be  as  unwilling  to  see  any 
wrong  done  him.  I  came  down  with  him  to  hunt  in  this 
forest ;  and,  the  chase  leading  us  to-day  a  great  way  from 
home,  I  am  benighted  in  this  wood,  and  have  lost  my  way. 

Miller.  This  does  not  sound  well.  If  you  have  been  a 
hunting,  pray  where  is  your  horse  ? 

King.  I  have  tired  my  horse  so  much  that  he  lay  down 
under  me,  and  I  was  obliged  to  leave  him. 

Miller.     If  I  thought  I  might  believe  this  now  — 

King.     I  am  not  used  to  lie,  honest  man. 


THE   KING   AND   THE   MILLER   OF   MANSFIELD.  83 

Miller.  What !  do  you  live  at  court,  and  not  lie  ? 
That  's  a  likely  story  indeed ! 

King.  Be  that  as  it  will,  I  speak  truth  now,  I  assure 
you.  To  convince  you  of  it,  —  if  you  will  attend  me  to 
Nottingham,  if  I  am  near  it,  or  give  me  a  night's  lodging 
in  your  own  house,  here  is  something  to  pay  you  for  your 
trouble  (giving  a  purse).  If  that  is  not  sufficient,  I  will 
satisfy  you  in  the  morning  to  your  utmost  desire. 

Miller.  Ay,  now  I  am  convinced  you  are  a  courtier ; 
here  is  a  little  bribe  for  to-day,  and  a  large  promise  for  to- 
morrow, both  in  a  breath !  Here,  take  it  again,  and  take 
this  along  with  it,  —  John  Cockle  is  no  courtier ;  he  can 
do  what  he  ought  —  without  a  bribe. 

King.  Thou  art  a  very  extraordinary  man,  I  must  own, 
and  I  should  be  glad,  methinks,  to  be  further  acquainted 
with  thee. 

Miller.  Thee !  and  thou  !  prithee  don't  thee-and-thou 
me  ;   I  believe  I  am  as  good  a  man  as  yourself,  at  least. 

King.     Sir,  I  beg  your  pardon. 

Miller.  Nay,  I  am  not  angry,  friend  :  only  I  don't  love 
to  be  too  familiar  with  anybody  before  I  know  whether  or 
not  he  deserves  it. 

King.     You  are  in  the  right.     But  what  am  I  to  do  ? 

Miller.  You  may  do  what  you  please.  You  are  twelve 
miles  from  Nottingham,  and  all  the  wav  through  a  thick 
wood ;  but  if  you  are  resolved  upon  going  thither  to-night, 
I  will  put  you  in  the  road,  and  direct  you  the  best  I  can  ; 
or,  if  you  will  accept  of  such  poor  entertainment  as  a 
miller  can  give,  you  will  be  welcome  to  stay  all  night,  and 
in  the  morning  I  shall  go  with  you  myself. 

King.     And  cannot  you  go  with  me  to-night  ? 

Miller.  I  would  not  go  with  you  to-night,  if  you  were 
the  king. 

King.     Then  I  must  go  with  you,  I  think. 

{Enter  a  courtier  in  haste.) 

Courtier.  Ah  !  is  your  Majesty  safe  ?  We  have  hunted 
the  forest  over  to  find  you. 


84  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

Miller.  How!  Are  you  the  king?  (Kneels,)  Your 
Majesty  will  pardon  the  ill-usage  you  have  received.  (The 
King  draws  his  sword.)  His  Majesty  will  not  kill  a  servant 
for  doing  his  duty  too  faithfully  ! 

King.  No,  my  good  fellow.  So  far  from  having  any- 
thing to  pardon,  I  am  much  your  debtor.  I  cannot  think 
but  so  good  and  honest  a  man  will  make  a  worthy  and 
honorable  knight  Bise,  Sir  John  Cockle,  and  receive  this 
sword  as  a  badge  of  knighthood,  and  a  pledge  of  my  pro- 
tection; and  to  support  your  nobility,  and  in  some  measure 
requite  you  for  the  pleasure  you  have  given  us,  a  thousand 
crowns  a  year  shall  be  your  revenue  !  Dodsley. 


^LUl.  —  SOME  MURMUR  WHEN  THEIR  SKY 
IS  CLEAR. 


SOME  murmur  when  their  sky  is  clear, 
And  wholly  bright  to  view, 
If  one  small  speck  of  dark  appear 
In  their  great  heaven  of  blue  ; 
And  some  with  thankful  love  are  filled, 

If  but  one  streak  of  light, 
One  ray  of  God's  good  mercy,  gild 
The  darkness  of  their  night. 


ii. 


In  palaces  are  hearts  that  ask, 

In  discontent  and  pride, 
Why  life  is  such  a  weary  task, 

And  all  good  things  denied  ; 
And  hearts  in  poorest  huts  admire 

How  love  has  in  their  aid 
(Love,  that  not  ever  seems  to  tire) 

Such  rich  provision  made. 


Bean  Trench. 


THE  SCOTCH   WOMAN  AND   HER  TWO   SONS.  85 

XXII.  —  THE  SCOTCH   WOMAN  AND  HER 

TWO  SONS. 

MANY  years  ago  an  old  Scotch  woman  sat  alone, 
spinning  by  the  kitchen  fire,  in  her  little  cottage. 
The  room  was  adorned  with  the  spoils  of  the  chase,  and 
many  implements  of  war  and  hunting.  There  were  spears, 
bows  and  arrows,  swords,  and  shields  ;  and  against  the 
side  of  the  room  hung  a  pair  of  huge  antlers,  on  which 
were  suspended  skins,  plaids,  bonnets,  and  one  or  two 
ponderous  battle-axes. 

2.  The  table  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  was  spread  foi 
supper,  and  some  oatmeal  cakes  were  baking  before  the 
fire.  But  the  dame  was  not  thinking  of  any  of  these 
things,  nor  of  her  two  manly  sons,  who,  in  an  adjoining 
room,  were  busily  preparing  for  the  next  day's  sport. 

3.  She  was  thinking  of  the  distracted  state  of  her  native 
land,  and  of  the  good  king,  Eobert  Bruce,  a  fugitive  in  his 
own  kingdom,  beset  on  every  hand  by  open  enemies  and 
secret  traitors.  "  Alas  !  "  thought  she,  "  to-night  I  dwell 
here  in  peace,  while  to-morrow  may  see  me  driven  out 
into  the  heath  ;  and  even  our  king  is  a  wanderer,  with 
no  shelter  for  his  weary  limbs." 

4.  A  load  knock  at  the  door  broke  in  upon  her  musings, 
She  rose,  trembling  with  fear,  to  unbar  the  entrance,  and 
beheld  a  man  closely  muffled  in  a  cloak.  "  My  good 
woman,"  said  he,  "  will  you  grant  a  poor  traveler  the 
shelter  of  your  roof  to-night  ? " 

5.  "  Pdght  willingly  will  I,"  said  she ;  "  for  the  love  of 
one  for  whose  sake  all  travelers   are  welcome  here." 

6.  "  For  whose  sake  is  it  that  you  make  all  wanderers 
welcome  ?  "  asked  the  stranger. 

7.  "  For  the  sake  of  our  good  king,  Eobert  Bruce,  who, 
though  he  is  now  hunted  like  a  wild  beast,  with  horn 
and  hound,  I  trust  yet  to  see  on  the  throne  of  Scotland." 

8.  "  Nay,  then,  my  good  woman,"  replied  the  man,  "  since 
you  love  him  so  well,  know  that  you  see  him  now.  7 
am  Eobert  Bruce." 


86  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

9.  "  You  ?  Are  you  our  king  ?  "  she  inquired,  sinking  on 
her  knees,  and  reverently  kissing  his  hand.  "  Where,  then, 
are  your  followers,  and  why  are  you  thus  alone  ? " 

10.  "I  have  no  followers  now,"  replied  Bruce,  "  and  am, 
therefore,  compelled  to  travel  alone." 

11.  "Nay,  my  liege,"  exclaimed  the  loyal  dame,  "that 
you  shall  do  no  longer ;  for  here  are  my  two  sons,  whom 
I  give  to  you,  and  may  they  long  live  to  serve  and  defend 
your  Majesty !" 

12.  The  Scottish  youths  bent  their  knees,  and  took  the 
oath  of  fealty;  and  then,  sitting  beside  the  fire,  the  king 
entered  into  conversation  with  his  new  retainers,  while  their 
mother  was  busied  in  preparing  the  evening  meal. 

13.  Suddenly  they  were  startled  by  the  tramp  of  horses' 
hoofs,  and  the  voices  of  men.  "  'T  is  the  English ! "  shouted 
the  matron  ;  "  fight  to  the  last,  my  sons,  and  defend  your 
king ! "  But,  at  this  moment,  the  king  recognized  the 
voices  of  Lord  James,  of  Douglas,  and  of  Edward  Bruce, 
and  bade  them  have  no  fear. 

14.  Bruce  was  overjoyed  at  meeting  with  his  brother 
and  his  faithful  friend  Douglas,  who  had  with  them  a 
band  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  men.  He  bade  farewell 
to  the  brave  and  loyal  woman,  and,  taking  with  him  her 
two  sons,  left  the  place. 

15.  The  two  young  Scots  served  Bruce  well  and  faith- 
fully, and  were  high  officers  in  his  service,  when  at  the  head 
of  a  conquering  army  he  drove  the  English  invaders  from 
the  soil  of  Scotland,  and  rendered  her  again  a  free  and 
independent  kingdom. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  The  room  was  adorned  with  the  spoils  of  the  chase,  and  many 

implements  of  war  and  hunting. 

2.  Against  the  sides  cf  the  room  hung  a  pair  of  hvfje  antlers,  and 

one  or  two  ponderous  battle-axes. 

3.  The  dame  thought  of  her  sons  who  were  in  an  adjoining  room. 

4.  Our  king  is  a  wanderer,  with  no  shelter  for  his  weary  limbs. 

5.  A  loud  knock  at  the  door  broke  in  upon  her  musings. 


SHORT   EXTRACTS   IN   VERSE,  g? 

XXIII.  —  SHORT  EXTRACTS  IN  VERSE. 


I.     WISDOM  S    WAYS. 

F  Wisdom's  ways  you  'd  wisely  seek, 
Five  things  observe  with  care  ; 
Of  whom  you  speak,  to  whom  you  speak, 
And  hoiv,  and  ivhe?i,  and  where. 


I 


II.     NEVER    GIVE    UP. 

Never  give  up  !  for  the  wisest  is  boldest, 
Knowing  that  Providence  mingles  the  cup  ,• 

And  of  all  maxims  the  best,  as  the  oldest, 
Is  the  true  watch wTord  of  —  Never  give  up  \ 

III.     THE    BEST    PRAYER. 

He  prayeth  best  who  loveth  best 
All  things  both  great  and  small ; 
For  the  dear  God  who  loveth  us, 
He  made  and  loveth  all. 

IV.     SLANDER. 

Believe  not  each  accusing  tongue, 

As  most  weak  people  do  ; 
But  still  believe  that  story  wrong 

Which  ought  not  to  be  true. 

v.    don't  worry. 

For  every  evil  under  the  sun 
There  's  a  remedy,  or  there  's  none  ; 
If  there  is  one,  try  and  find  it ; 
If  there  is  n't,  never  mind  it. 

vi.    idle  words. 

0,  many  a  shaft  at  random  sent 

Finds  mark  the  archer  little  meant ! 

And  many  a  word  at  random  spoken 

May  soothe  or  wound  a  heart  that 's  broken  ' 


88  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

XXIV.— ONCE  WELL  DONE,  TWICE  DONE. 

"  ~T~AMES,"  said  my  father,  directly  after  breakfast,  one 
fj  morning,  "  I  am  going  up  to  Squire  Frame's  after 
that  pig,  and  I  want  you  to  make  a  pen  for  it.  That  shall 
be  your  job  for  the  day  ;  but,  mind,  you  're  not  to  have  any 
help  about  it." 

2.  u  Yes,  sir.     What  time  will  the  pig  be  here  ?  " 

Fond  visions  of  the  salmon-trout  in  Schroon  Lake  began 
to  dance  before  my  mind ;  for  a  pig-pen  was  only  an  hour's 
work,  anyway. 

3.  "I  shall  bring  the  pig  about  ten  o'clock.  We  can 
put  him  into  the  bacon-house  till  you  get  the  pen  ready 
for  him.     You  can  finish  it  by  three  o'clock,  I  suppose?  " 

4.  "  0  yes ;  by  noon,"  I  responded,  with  that  off-hand 
air  of  bravado  peculiar  to  boys  of  fourteen. 

5.  "  But  it  's  no  small  job  to  build  a  pig-pen,"  my 
father  insisted,  with  some  emphasis;  "  pigs  are  not  hogs, 
and  I  want  that  pen  made  well.  When  work  's  wTell  done, 
it 's  twice  done." 

6.  I  had  a  strong  constitutional  tendency  to  two  things, — 
shirking  and  fishing!  As  to  the  first,  I  wras  greatly  assisted 
by  three  younger  brothers,  whom  I  could  usually  coax, 
threaten,  hire,  or  wheedle  into  performing  almost  any  task 
my  father  set  me  to  do;  while  the  latter  pursuit  I  was 
always  ready  to  follow  unaided  and  alone. 

7.  However,  I  set  about  the  task  with  a  sort  of  bold  and 
lion-like  energy,  greatly  enhanced  by  thoughts  of  salmon- 
trout.  Posts  were  set,  boards  brought  and  nailed,  a  door 
hung  with  leather  hinges,  and  an  old  trough  set  in  place. 
Three  boards,  reaching  from  the  top  of  the  pen  to  the 
ground,  with  some  clean  straw,  made  a  chamber  in  which 
the  prince  of  pigs  would  have  grunted  with  delight.  The 
perfection  of  these  arrangements  was  only  equaled  by  the 
despatch  with  which  they  had  been  executed. 

8.  I  was  proud  of  my  skill,  and  was  overhauling  my 
fishing-tackle  when  piggy  arrived.     My  father  expressed  a 


ONCE  WELL  DOXE,    TWICE  DONE.  89 

good  deal  of  surprise  at  my  expedition,  and  hoped  the  pen 
was  strong  enough  to  hold  its  tenant. 

9.  This  particular  pig  was  one  of  the  wickedest-looking 
I  ever  saw  He  did  not  squeal,  as  other  pigs  do  ;  but,  as 
soon  as  he  was  admitted  to  the  pen,  sought  the  farthest 
corner,  and  looked  at  us  with  eyes  full  of  sly  malice  and 
cunning. 

10.  I  forgot  the  salmon-trout  until  nearly  dinner-time. 
I  had  almost  finished  my  ham  and  eggs,  when  my  youngest 
brother,  Will,  who  had  hurried  out  to  get  another  look  at 
the  stranger,  came  running  in  with  the  direful  tidings,  — 
"  Jim,  Jim  !  the  pig  's  out ! " 

11.  I  was  rude  enough  to  leave  the  table  while  my  father 
was  remarking  something  about  "  when  work  's  well  done." 
1  did  n't  stop  to  catch  the  remainder  of  the  sentence,  but 
started  after  that  pig.  I  may  here  state  that  I  had  the  able 
assistance  of  my  three  brothers,  gradually  recruited  by  all 
the  boys  in  the  neighborhood. 

12.  Piggy  had  a  good  start,  and  took  to  the  woods.  Talk 
of  Dexter,  Peg'asus,  or  seven-league  boots,  —  that  pig  out- 
stripped the  best  of  them  !  I  think  there  is  a  great  differ- 
ence in  pigs  in  regard  to  speed.  At  any  rate,  this  individual 
pig  gave  us  such  a  chase  as  I  never  heard  of  before  or  since, 
running  into  the  deepest  jungles,  and  when  we  thought  he 
was  surrounded,  disappearing  over  a  distant  hill. 

13.  Finally,  after  a  great  deal  of  maneuvering  and  skil- 
ful tactics,  we  brought  him  into  a  snare,  where  the  high 
rocks  on  one  side  and  the  water  on  the  other  were  too  much 
for  the  poor  pig.  Pieces  of  twine  were  immediately  pro- 
duced from  the  well-stocked  pockets  of  his  numerous  cap- 
tors, and  his  legs  secured  so  that  it  was  quite  impossible 
for  him  to  use  them,  while  the  deafening  din  that  rent  the 
air  proved  well  that  piggy  could  squeal  if  he  tried. 

14.  I  carried  him  home  in  my  arms,  and  consigned  him 
for  the  time  to  the  bacon-house,  while  I  repaired  the  mis- 
chief.  He  had  rooted  out  under  one  corner  of  the  pen  and 
easily  made  his  escape. 


90  THE   FIFTH   READEK. 

15.  I  brought  more  boards,  dug  a  trench  all  round  the 
outside,  and  made  it  quite  impossible  for  my  ingenious  foe 
to  root  out  again. 

The  clock  struck  three  ! 

16.  Considerably  depressed  in  mind  and  body,  I  shoul- 
dered my  fishing-pole,  and  wearily  started  towards  Schroon 
Like.  There  was  still  time  to  hook  half  a  dozen  trout.  I 
had  scarcely  reached  the  summit  of  the  hill,  when  the 
excited  cry  of  Brother  George  struck  a  chill  to  the  roots 
of  my  hair. 

"  Jim,  Jim  !  the  pig  's  out !  " 

17.  Despair  settled  over  me.  I  turned  homeward,  and 
the  first  thing  1  did  was  to  stow  my  fishing-tackle  away  in 
the  barn  chamber. 

18.  For  my  own  part,  I  was  already  fatigued  with  the 
day's  sport ;  but  that  pig  seemed  invigorated  by  it,  and 
started  in  another  direction.  As  T  came  in  sight  of  him, 
a  friendly  neighbor  was  heading  him  off,  and  buoyant 
hope  rose  again  in  my  breast.  In  vain !  Piggy  ran  be- 
tween his  legs,  and  disappeared  down  the  slope.  It  was 
two  hours  later  when  he  was  again  secured.  This  time  he 
had  run  up  on  the  inclined  plane  of  his  chamber  roof,  and, 
jumping  off,  made  his  second  escape. 

19.  My  state  of  mind  can  better  be  imagined  than  de- 
scribed ;  and  my  father's  silent  and  quizzical  inspection  of 
my  work  did  not  tend  to  soothe  my  wounded  spirit. 

20.  Talk  of  the  mischievous  genius  of  a  boy  !  It  is 
nothing  compared  with  the  inventive  talents  of  a  pig. 

21.  I  cannot  say,  as  story-books  do,  that  from  this  time 
forth  I  was  a  reformed  youth ;  but  I  am  very  sure  that  the 
freaks  of  that  pig  made  quite  as  salutary  an  impression 
upon  my  mind,  and  had  as  great  an  influence  upon  my 
future  conduct,  as  my  father's  oft-repeated  observation,  — 
li  When  a  thing  's  well  done,  it  's  twice  done." 

L.  A.  B.  Curtis. 


THE   SWALLOW   AND    HER   NEST.  9] 

XXV.  —  THE  SWALLOW  AND  HER  NEST, 

i. 

A  SWALLOW  in  the  spring 
Came  to  onr  granary,  and  'neath  the  eaves 
Essayed  to  make  her  nest,  and  there  did  bring 
Wet  earth,  and  straw,  and  leaves. 

ii. 

Day  after  day  she  toiled 
With  patient  art ;  but,  ere  her  work  was  crowned, 
Some  sad  mishap  the  tiny  fabric  spoiled, 

And  dashed  it  to  the  ground. 

in. 

She  found  the  ruin  wrought ; 
Yet  not  cast  down,  forth  from  her  place  she  flew, 
And  with  her  mate  fresh  earth  and  grasses  brought. 

And  built  her  nest  anew. 

IV. 

But  scarcely  had  she  placed 
The  last  soft  feather  on  its  ample  floor, 
When  wicked  hands,  or  chance,  again  laid  waste, 

And  wrought  the  ruin  o'er. 

v. 

But  still  her  heart  she  kept, 
And  toiled  again  ;  and,  last  night  hearing  calls, 
I  looked,  and  lo  !  three  little  swallows  slept 

Within  the  earth-made  walls. 

VI. 

What  trust  is  here,  0  man  ! 
Hath  hope  been  smitten  in  its  early  dawn  'i 
Have  clouds  o'ercast  thy  purpose,  trust,  or  plan  ? 

Have  faith,  and  struggle  on  ! 

R.  S.  S.  Andros. 


92  THE   FIFTH  HEADER. 

XXVI.  —  ADVENTURE  WITH  A    WHALE. 

AT  daylight,  as  usual,  our  mast-head  was  manned , 
and  at  about  seven  o'clock  we  heard  the  cry, 
"  There  she  blows  ! "  All  on  deck  listened  to  hear  the 
cry  again,  that  they  might  feel  an  assurance  of  a  sperm 
whale  being  in  sight. 

2.  In  a  few  moments  the  well-known  cry  was  repeated, 
and  reiterated  a  number  of  times.  The  officer  on  deck 
inquired,  K  Where  away  ? "  "  Eight  ahead,  sir,"  was  the 
reply.  "  How  far  off  ?  "  "About  three  miles  ;  headed  right 
athwart  us  :  I  can  see  his  hump  ;  it  is  an  old  soldier,  sir." 

3.  Now  a  scene  of  bustle  and  confusion  presents  itself; 
some  going  aft,  and  others  preparing  the  boats  for  the 
expected  encounter.  "  There  goes  flukes,"  is  heard  from 
a  dozen  voices  aloft ;  which  implies  that  the  whale  has 
sounded. 

4.  A  large  whale  remains  under  water  from  forty  min- 
utes to  an  hour ;  but  when  on  the  surface,  and  when  not 
alarmed,  spouts  about  -once  in  every  thirty  seconds,  and 
remains  above,  going  at  the  rate  of  four  miles  to  the  hour, 
for  ten  or  twenty  minutes. 

5.  "  There  she  blows  ! "  "  Where,  —  where  ? "  asks  the 
captain,  in  a  hurried  tone.  "  About  two  miles  off  oui  lee 
beam,  sir."  "  Haul  up  the  mainsail ;  lay  the  topsail  to  the 
mast ;  down  with  your  helm :  let  the  ship  come  to  the  wind." 

6.  The  helm  is  instantly  put  to  lee.  The  ship  comes 
up,  clashing  the  spray  majestically  from  her  bows,  until 
checked  by  the  action  of  the  wind  against  her  mainsail 
'•  Is  all  ready  for  lowering  ?  "  asks  the  captain.  "  Al] 
ready,"  is  the  reply. 

7.  After  descending  to  the  deck,  the  captain  points  out 
to  the  officers  the  direction  in  which  the  whale  is  going, 
and  gives  such  orders  as  the  occasion  requires.  The  boats 
are  lowered  ;  the  whale  has  sounded  before  the  boats  touch 
the  water,  and  each  one  steers  as  judgment  dictates  in 
regard  to  the  supposed  course  of  the  whale. 


ADVENTURE   WITH   A   WHALE.  93 

8.  To-day  the  captain's  boat  was  within  a  short  dis- 
tance, when  the  whale  made  its  appearance ;  and  every 
nerve  was  strained  to  get  alongside  before  it  sounded 
"  Pull,  my  good  fellows  ;  pull  away  !  "  was  often  repeated. 
"Lay  back,  every  man  !  A  few  more  like  this  chap  ahead, 
and  we  will  bid  adieu  to  the  Pacific.  Stretch  hard,  every 
one  of  you ;  a  few  more  strokes,  and  she  is  ours ;  pull 
hard,  I  tell  you." 

9.  At  this  momentous  time,  every  one  feels  the  impor- 
tance of  strict  obedience.  Some  who  have  not  been 
accustomed  to  the  deadly  battle  with  the  monsters  of  the 
deep  pull  with  heavy  hearts,  dreading  the  moment  of 
attack ;  while  those  who  have  been  long  in  the  business 
feel  less  dread;  although  a  strange  sensation  creeps 
through  every  bosom,  as  the  sea  looks  black  with  the  bulk 
of  an  unwieldy  monster,  who  goes  down  to  the  oozy  ocean 
caves,  then  rises  to  the  regions  of  day,  and  spouts  out  his 
pent  breath  towards  heaven.  A  chill  of  dread  comes  over 
the  hardiest  bosom. 

10.  But  the  boat  goes  fast.  It  is  now  alongside.  The 
word  from  the  captain  to  the  boat-steerer  is,  u  Stand  up  ! " 
which  is  done,  his  hands  resting  upon  his  harpoon.  Xow 
he  raises  it,  as  if  he  would  plunge  it  deep  into  the  whale ; 
but  a  motion  from  the  captain  deters  him. 

11.  The  whale  lies  spouting,  with  little  motion.  The 
boat's  head  is  laid  towards  him;  the  word  is  given.  Two 
harpoons  are  darted  into  the  whale;  he  rears,  plunges,  and 
is  lost  to  the  sight, 

12.  The  other  boats  are  seen  coming  to  our  relief;  and 
the  whale  rises  again  in  sight,  "Haul  line, — haul  line; 
haul,  I  tell  you :  we  will  kill  her  before  the  other  boats  get 
up,"  says  the  captain.  Every  man  hauled  as  if  for  his 
life ;  the  whale  going  through  the  water  veiy  rapidly. 

13.  We  had  approached  our  object  within  a  few  feet, 
and  the  captain  was  in  the  attitude  of  darting  his  lance, 
when  the  whale  made  a  sudden  halt,  which  brought  the 
boat  in  contact  with  his  head.     In  an  instant  the  jaw  was 


94  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

elevated,  and  as  quickly  fell  again,  which  stove  the  boat 
in  pieces. 

14.  While  the  other  boats,  which  were  at  a  distance, 
approached  for  our  relief,  we  were  some  of  us  clinging  to 
the  shattered  fragments  of  the  boat,  and  some  of  us  swim- 
ming in  the  water.  We  were  rescued,  and  immediately 
carried  to  the  ship.  One  of  the  crew,  a  young  man  from 
New  Hampshire,  had  his  leg  broken  in  three  places,  and 
the  flesh  torn  and  mangled  in  a  horrid  manner. 

15.  After  our  arrival  at  the  ship,  and  our  first  care  of 
the  wounded  man,  whom  we  placed  in  as  comfortable  a 
situation  as  our  circumstances  would  permit,  we  saw  the 
waist-boat  engaged  in  perilous  conflict  with  the  enemy 
who  had  wrecked  us.  After  a  bloody  battle  of  two  hours 
they  succeeded  in  killing  the  "  old  soldier." 


XXVII.  —  NOTHING  LOST. 

i. 
"XTOTHING  is  lost  :  the  drop  of  dew 
1  >|     That  trembles  on  the  leaf  or  flower 
Is  but  exhaled,  to  fall  anew 
In  summer's  thunder-shower ; 
Perchance  to  shine  within  the  bow 
That  fronts  the  sun  at  fall  of  day, 
Perchance  to  sparkle  in  the  flow 
Of  fountains  far  away. 

ii. 
So  with  our  deeds,  —  for  good  or  ill 
They  have  their  power,  scarce  understood  ; 
Then  let  us  use  our  better  will 
To  make  them  rife  with  good. 
Like  circles  on  a  lake  they  go, 
Ring  beyond  ring,  and  never  stay. 
O  that  our  deeds  were  fashioned  so 
That  they  might  bless  alway  ! 


MALIBRAN   AND   THE   YOUNG    MUSICIAN.  95 

XXVIII.  —  MALIBRAN  AND   THE   YOUNG 
MUSICIAN. 

IN  a  humble  room,  in  one  of  the  poorer  streets  of  Lon- 
don, little  Pierre,,  a  fatherless  French  boy,  sat  humming 
1  »y  the  bedside  of  his  sick  mother.  There  was  no  bread  in 
the  closet ;  and  for  the  whole  day  he  had  not  tasted  food. 
Yet  he  sat  humming,  to  keep  up  his  spirits.  Still,  at  times, 
he  thought  of  his  loneliness  and  hunger ;  and  he  could 
scarcely  keep  the  tears  from  his  eyes  ;  for  he  knew  noth- 
ing would  be  so  grateful  to  his  poor  invalid  mother  as  a 
good  sweet  orange  ;  and  yet  he  had  not  a  penny  in  the 
world. 

2.  The  little  song  he  was  singing  was  his  own,  —  one  he 
had  composed  with  air  and  words  ;  for  the  child  was  a 
genius. 

3.  He  went  to  the  window,  and,  looking  out,  saw  a  man 
putting  up  a  great  bill  with  yellow  letters,  announcing  that 
Madame  Malibran  would  sing  that  night  in  public. 

4.  "  0,  if  I  could  only  go ! "  thought  little  Pierre  ;  and 
then,  pausing  a  moment,  he  clasped  his  hands  ;  his  eyes 
lighted  with  a  new  hope.  Running  to  the  little  stand,  he 
smoothed  down  his  yellow  curls,  and,  taking  from  a  little 
box  some  old  stained  paper,  gave  one  eager  glance  at  his 
mother,  who  slept,  and  ran  speedily  from  the  house. 


f 


5.  "  Who  did  you  say  is  waiting  for  me  ?  "  said  the  lady 
to  her  servant.     "  I  am  already  worn  out  with  company.'' 

G.  "  It  is  only  a  very  pretty  little  boy,  with  yellow  curls, 
who  says  if  he  can  just  see  you,  he  is  sure  you  will  not 
be  sorry,  and  he  will  not  keep  you  a  moment." 

7.  "Oh!  well,  let  him  come,"  said  the  beautiful  singer, 
with  a  smile;  "I  can  never  refuse  children." 

8.  Little  Pierre  came  in,  his  hat  under  his  arm  ;  and  in 
his  hand  a  little  roll  of  paper.  With  manliness  unusual 
for  a  child,  he  walked  straight  to  the  lady,  and,  bowing, 
said,  —  "I  came  to  see  you,  because  my  mother  is  very 


96  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

sick,  and  we  are  too  poor  to  get  food  and  medicine.  I 
thought  that,  perhaps,  if  you  would  only  sing  my  little 
song  at  some  of  your  grand  concerts,  may  be  some  pub- 
lisher would  buy  it,  for  a  small  sum  ;  and  so  I  could  get 
food  and  medicine  for  my  mother." 

9.  The  beautiful  woman  rose  from  her  seat ;  very  tall 
and  stately  she  was  ;  —  she  took  the  little  roll  from  his 
hand,  and  lightly  hummed  the  air. 

10.  "  Did  you  compose  it  ? "  she  asked,  —  "  you,  a  child ! 
And  the  words  ?  —  Would  you  like  to  come  to  my  con- 
cert ?  "  she  asked,  after  a  few  moments  of  thought. 

11.  "  0  yes  ! "  and  the  boy's  eyes  grew  bright  with  hap- 
piness, —  "  but  I  could  n't  leave  my  mother." 

12.  "I  will  send  somebody  to  take  care  of  your  mother, 
for  the  evening  ;  and  here  is  a  crown,  with  which  you  may 
go  and  get  food  and  medicine.  Here  is  also  one  of  my 
tickets  :  come  to-night  ;  that  will  admit  you  to  a  seat 
near  me." 

13.  Almost  beside  himself  with  joy,  Pierre  bought  some 
oranges,  and  many  a  little  luxury  besides,  and  carried  them 
home  to  the  poor  invalid,  telling  her,  not  without  tears,  of 
his  good  fortune. 

*  *  *  *  * 

14.  When  evening  came,  and  Pierre  was  admitted  to 
the  concert-hall,  he  felt  that  never  in  his  life  had  he  been 
in  so  grand  a  place.  The  music,  the  myriad  lights,  the 
beauty,  the  flashing  of  diamonds  and  rustling  of  silks, 
bewildered  his  eyes  and  brain. 

15.  At  last  she  came ;  and  the  child  sat  with  his  glance 
riveted  upon  her  glorious  face.  Could  he  believe  that  the 
grand  lady,  all  blazing  with  jewels,  and  whom  everybody 
seemed  to  Ayorship,  would  really  sing  his  little  song  ? 

16.  Breathless  he  waited,  —  the  band,  the  whole  band, 
fetruck  up  a  little  plaintive  melody ;  he  knew  it,  and 
clapped  his  hands  for  joy.  And  oh  !  how  she  sung  it  i 
It  was  so  simple,  so  mournful,  so  soul-subduing;  —  many 
a  bright  eye   dimmed  with  tears  ;  and  naught  could  be 


MALIBRAN   AND   THE   YOUNG    MUSICIAN.  97 

heard  but  the  touching  words  of  that  little    song,  —  0, 

so  touching  ! 

17.  Pierre  walked  home  as  if  he  were  moving  on  the 
air.  What  cared  he  for  money  now  ?  The  greatest  singer 
in  all  Europe  had  sung  his  little  song,  and  thousands  had 
wept  at  his  grief. 

18.  The  next  day  he  was  frightened  at  a  visit  from 
Madame  Malibran.  She  laid  her  hand  on  his  yellow 
curls,  and,  turning  to  the  sick  woman,  said,  "  Your  little 
boy,  madam,  has  brought  you  a  fortune.  I  was  offered, 
this  morning,  by  the  best  publisher  in  London,  three  hun- 
dred pounds  for  his  little  song  ;  and  after  he  has  realized  a 
certain  amount  from  the  sale,  little  Pierre,  here,  is  to  share 
the  profits.  Madam,  thank  God  that  your  son  has  a  gift 
from  heaven." 

19.  The  noble-hearted  singer  and  the  poor  woman  wept 
together.  As  to  Pierre,  always  mindful  of  Him  who 
watches  over  the  tried  and  tempted,  he  knelt  clown  by 
his  mother's  bedside,  and  uttered  a  simple  but  eloquent 
prayer,  asking  God's  blessing  on  the  kind  lady  who  had 
deigned  to  notice  their  affliction. 

20.  The  memory  of  that  prayer  made  the  singer  even 
more  tender-hearted  ;  and  she  who  was  the  idol  of  Eng- 
land's nobility  went  about  doing  good.  And  in  her  early, 
happy  death,  he  who  stood  by  her  bed,  and  smoothed  her 
pillow,  and  lightened  her  last  moments  by  his  undying 
affection,  was  the  little  Pierre  of  former  days,  —  now  rich, 
accomplished,  and  the  most  talented  composer  of  the  day. 

21.  All  honor  to  those  great  hearts  who,  from  their  high 
stations,  send  down  bounty  to  the  widow,  and  to  the  father- 
less child  ! 

EXERCISE. 

1.  Little  Pierre  had  composed  a  song. 

2.  He  gave  one  eager  glance  at  his  mother,  and  ran  speedily  from 

the  house. 

3.  He  was  almost  beside  himself  with  joy. 

4.  The  music,  the  myriad  lights,  and  the  beauty  bewildered  him. 


98 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


XXIX.  —  THE  CHARCOAL-MAM. 


THOUGH  rudely  blows  the  wintry  blast, 
And  sifting  snows  fall  white  and  fast, 
Mark  Haley  drives  along  the  street. 
Perched  high  upon  his  wagon  seat  ; 
His  somber  faee  the  storm  defies, 
And  thus  from  morn  till  eve  he  cries,  — 

"  Charco'  !  charco'  !  " 
While  echo  faint  and  far  replies,  — 

"  Hark,  0  !  hark,  0  !  " 
"  Charco' !  "  —  "  Hark,  0  !  "  —  Such  cheery  sounds 
Attend  him  on  his  daily  rounds. 


THE   CHARCOAL-MAX.  99 

II. 
The  dust  begrimes  his  ancient  hat ; 
His  coat  is  darker  far  than  that  ; 
'T  is  odd  to  see  his  sooty  form 
All  speckled  with  the  feathery  storm ; 
Yet  in  his  honest  bosom  lies 
Nor  spot  nor  speck,  —  though  still  he  cries,  — 

"  Charco'  !  charco'  !  " 
And  many  a  roguish  lad  replies,  — 

"  Ark,  ho  !  ark,  ho  !  " 
'*  Charco' !  "  —  "  Ark,  ho  !  "  —  Such  various  sounds 
Announce  Mark  Haley's  morning  rounds. 

hi. 

Thus  all  the  cold  and  wintry  day 
He  labors  much  for  little  pay  ; 
Yet  feels  no  less  of  happiness 
Than  many  a  richer  man,  I  guess, 
When  through  the  shades  of  eve  he  spies 
The  light  of  his  own  home,  and  cries,  — 

"  Charco'  !  charco' !  " 
And  Martha  from  the  door  replies,  — 

"  Mark,  ho  !  Mark,  ho  !  " 
"  Charco'  !  "  —  "  Mark,  ho  !  "  —  Such  joy  abound? 
When  he  has  closed  his  daily  rounds. 

IV. 

The  hearth  is  warm,  the  fire  is  bright ; 

And  while  his  hand,  washed  clean  and  white, 

Holds  Martha's  tender  hand  once  more, 

His  glowing  face  bends  fondly  o'er 

The  crib  wherein  his  darling  lies, 

And  in  a  coaxing  tone  he  cries,  — 

"  Charco'  !  charco'  !  " 
And  baby  with  a  laugh  replies,  — 

"  Ah,  go  !  ah,  go  !  " 
"  Charco'  !  "  —  "  Ah,  go  !  "  —  while  at  the  sounds 
Che  mother's  heart  with  gladness  bounds. 


100  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

v. 
Then  honored  be  the  charcoal-rnan  ! 
Though  dusky  as  an  African, 
'T  is  not  for  you,  that  chance  to  be 
A  little  better  clad  than  he, 
His  honest  manhood  to  despise, 
Although  from  morn  till  eve  he  cries,  — 

"  Charco' !  charco'  !  " 
While  mocking  echo  still  replies,  — 

"  Hark,  0  !  hark,  0  !  " 

"  Charco' !  "  —  "  Hark,  0  !  "  —  Long  may  the  sounds 

Proclaim  Mark  Haley's  daily  rounds ! 

J.  T.  Trowbridge. 


XXX.  —  REHEARSING  FOR  CHRISTMAS. 

THE  clock  struck  six ;  and  Beth,  having  swept  up  the 
hearth,  put  a  pair  of  slippers  clown  to  warm.  Some- 
how the  sight  of  the  old  shoes  had  a  good  effect  upon  the 
girls,  for  mother  was  coming  home,  and  every  one  bright- 
ened to  welcome  her.  Meg  stopped  lecturing,  and  lit  the 
lamp.  Amy  got  out  of  the  easy-chair  without  being  asked, 
and  Jo  forgot  how  tired  she  was,  as  she  sat  up  to  hold  the 
slippers  nearer  the  blaze. 

2.  "  They  are  quite  worn  out ;  mother  must  have  a  new 
pair." 

"  1  thought  I  'd  get  her  some  with  my  dollar,"  said  Beth. 
"  No,  I  shall !  "  cried  Amy. 

3.  "  I  'm  the  oldest,"  began  Meg,  but  Jo  cut  in  with  a 
decided  — 

"  I  'm  the  man  of  the  family  now  papa  is  away,  and  / 
shall  provide  the  slippers,  for  he  told  me  to  take  special 
care  of  mother  while  he  was  gone." 

4.  "  I  Tl  tell  you  what  we  '11  do,"  said  Beth  ,  "  let 's  each 
get  her  something  for  Christmas,  and  not  get  anything  for 
ourselves." 


REHEARSING   FOR  CHRISTMAS.  101 

tf  That  's  like  you,  dear  !  What  will  we  get  ?  "  ex- 
claimed Jo. 

5.  Every  one  thought  soberly  for  a  minute  ;  then  Meg 
announced,  as  if  the  idea  was  suggested  by  the  sight  of  her 
own  pretty  hands,  "  I  shall  give  her  a  nice  pair  of  gloves." 

6.  "  Army  shoes,  best  to  be  had,"  cried  Jo. 

"  Some  handkerchiefs,  all  hemmed,"  said  Beth. 

7.  "  I  '11  get  a  little  bottle  of  Cologne  ;  she  likes  it,  and 
it  won't  cost  much,  so  I  '11  have  some  left  to  buy  something 
for  me,"  added  Amy. 

8.  "  How  will  we  give  the  things  ?  "  asked  Meg. 

"  Put  them  on  the  table,  and  bring  her  in  and  see  her 
open  the  bundles.  Don't  you  remember  how  we  used  to 
do  on  our  birthdays  ?  "  answered  Jo. 

9.  "  I  used  to  be  so  frightened  when  it  was  my  turn  to 
sit  in  the  big  chair  with  a  crown  on,  and  see  you  all  come 
marching  round  to  give  the  presents,  with  a  kiss.  I  liked 
the  things  and  the  kisses,  but  it  was  dreadful  to  have  you 
sit  looking  at  me  while  I  opened  the  bundles,"  said  Beth, 
who  was  toasting  her  face  and  the  bread  for  tea,  at  the 
same  time. 

10.  "Let  mother  think  we  are  getting  things  for  our- 
selves, and  then  surprise  her.  We  must  go  shopping  to- 
morrow afternoon,  Meg  ;  there  is  lots  to  do  about  the  play 
for  Christmas  night,"  said  Jo,  marching  up  and  down  with 
her  hands  behind  her  back,  and  her  nose  in  the  air. 

11.  "I  don't  mean  to  act  any  more  after  this  time  ;  I  'm 
getting  too  old  for  such  things,"  observed  Meg,  who  was  as 
much  a  child  as  ever  about  "  dressing  up  "  frolics. 

12.  "  You  won't  stop,  I  know,  as  long  as  you  can  trail 
round  in  a  white  gown  with  your  hair  down,  and  wear  gold 
paper  jewelry.  You  are  the  best  actress  we  've  got,  and 
there  '11  be  an  end  of  everything  if  you  quit  the  boards," 
said  Jo.  "  We  ought  to  rehearse  to-night ;  come  here, 
Amy,  and  do  the  fainting  scene,  for  you  are  as  stiff  as  a 
poker  in  that." 

13.  "I  cant  help  it;  I  never  saw  any  one  faint,  and  I 


1Q2  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

don't  choose  to  make  myself  all  black  and  blue,  tumbling 
flat  as  you  do.  If  I  can  go  down  easily,  1 11  drop  ;  if  I 
can't,  I  shall  fall  into  a  chair  and  be  graceful ;  I  don't  care 
if  Hugo  does  come  at  me  with  a  pistol,"  returned  Amy, 
who  was  not  gifted  with  dramatic  power,  but  was  chosen 
because  she  was  small  enough  to  be  borne  out  shrieking  by 
the  hero  of  the  piece. 

14.  "  Do  it  this  way  ;  clasp  your  hands  so,  and  stagger 
across  the  room,  crying  frantically,  '  Roderigo  !  save  me  ! 
save  me ! '  and  away  went  Jo,  with  a  melodramatic 
scream  which  was  truly  thrilling. 

15.  Amy  followed,  but  she  poked  her  hands  out  stiffly 
before  her,  and  jerked  herself  along  as  if  she  went  by 
machinery ;  and  her  "  Ow  !  "  was  more  suggestive  of  pins 
being  run  into  her  than  of  fear  and  anguish.  Jo  gave  a 
despairing  groan,  and  Meg  laughed  outright,  while  Beth  let 
her  bread  burn  as  she  watched  the  fun  with  interest. 

16.  "  It 's  no  use  !  do  the  best  you  can  when  the  time 
comes,  and  if  the  audience  shout,  don't  blame  me.  Come 
on,  Meg." 

17.  Then  things  went  smoothly,  for  Don  Pedro  defied 
the  world  in  a  speech  of  two  pages  without  a  single  break  ; 
Hagar,  the  witch,  chanted  an  awful  incantation  over  her 
kettleful  of  simmering  toads,  with  weird  effect ;  lloderioo 
rent  his  chains  asunder  manfully,  and  Hugo  died  in  agonies 
of  remorse  and  arsenic,  with  a  wild  "  Ha  !  ha  !  " 

18.  "  It  's  the  best  we  've  had  yet,"  said  Meg,  as  the 
dead  villain  sat  up  and  rubbed  his  elbows. 

19.  "  I  don't  see  how  you  can  write  and  act  such  splen- 
did things,  Jo.  You  're  a  regular  Shakespeare  !  "  exclaimed 
Beth,  who  firmly  believed  that  her  sisters  were  gifted  with 
wonderful  genius  in  all  things. 

20.  "  Not  quite,"  replied  Jo,  modestly.  "  I  do  think 
'  The  Witch's  Curse,  an  Operatic  Tragedy,'  is  rather  a  nice 
thing  ;  but  I  'd  like  to  try  Macbeth,  if  we  only  had  a  trap 
door  for  Banquo.  I  always  wanted  to  do  the  killing  part. 
1  Is  that  a  dagger  that  I  see  before  me  ? '  "  muttered  Jo, 


THE   GIANT.  103 

rolling  her  eyes  and  clutching  at  the  air,  as  she  had  seen  a 
famous  tragedian  do. 

21.  "  No,  it 's  the  toasting-fork,  with  ma's  shoe  on  it  in- 
stead of  bread.  Beth  \s  stage-struck,"  cried  Meg,  and  the 
rehearsal  ended  in  a  general  burst  of  laughter. 

L.  M.  Alcott. 


XXXL-ffi.B  GIANT. 

i. 

THERE  came  a  Giant  to  my  door, 
A  Giant  fierce  and  strong ; 
His  step  was  heavy  on  the  floor, 
His  arms  were  ten  yards  long. 
He  scowled  and  frowned ;  he  shook  the  ground : 

I  trembled  through  and  through  ;  — 
At  length  I  looked  him  in  the  face 
And  cried,   "  Who  cares  for  you  ]  " 

11. 
The  mighty  Giant,  as  I  spoke, 

Grew  pale  and  thin  and  small, 
And  through  his  body,  as  't  were  smoke, 

I  saw  the  sunshine  fall. 
His  blood-red  eyes  turned  blue  as  skies. 

He  whispered  soft  and  low. 
"  Is  this,"  I  cried,  with  growing  pride,  — 

"  Is  this  the  mighty  foe  %  " 

in. 
He  sank  before  my  earnest  face, 

He  vanished  quite  away, 
And  left  no  shadow  on  his  place 

Between  me  and  the  day. 
Such  Giants  come  to  strike  us  dumb  — 

But,  weak  in  every  part, 

They  melt  before  the  strong  man's  eyes, 

And  fly  the  true  of  heart. 

Charles  Mackay. 


104  THE   FIFTH   READEK. 

XXXII.  —  THE  FARMER  AMD  THE  FOX. 

A  FARMER,  whose  poultry -yard  had  suffered  severely 
from  the  foxes,  succeeded  at  last  in  catching  one  in 
a  trap. 

"  Ah,  you  rascal !  "  said  he,  as  he  saw  him  struggling, 
"  1 11  teach  you  to  steal  my  fat  geese  !  —  you  shall  hang  on 
the  tree  yonder,  and  your  brothers  shall  see  what  comes  of 
thieving ! " 

2.  The  Farmer  was  twisting  a  halter  to  do  what  he 
threatened,  when  the  Fox,  whose  tongue  had  helped  him 
in  hard  pinches  before,  thought  there  could  be  no  harm  in 
trying  whether  it  might  not  do  him  one  more  good  turn. 

3.  "  You  will  hang  me,"  he  said,  "  to  frighten  my  brother 
foxes.  On  the  word  of  a  fox  they  won't  care  a  rabbit-skin 
for  it ;  they  11  come  and  look  at  me ;  but  you  may  depend 
upon  it,  they  will  dine  at  your  expense  before  they  go 
home  again ! " 

4.  "  Then  I  shall  hang  you  for  yourself,  as  a  rogue  and  a 
rascal,"  said  the  Farmer. 

5.  "  I  am  only  what  Nature,  or  whatever  you  call  the 
thing,  chose  to  make  me,"  the  Fox  answered.  "  I  did  n't 
make  myself." 

6.  "  You  stole  my  geese,"  said  the  man. 

7.  "  Why  did  Nature  make  me  like  geese,  then  ? "  said 
the  Fox.  "  Live  and  let  live  ;  give  me  my  share,  and  I  won't 
touch  yours  :  but  you  keep  them  all  to  yourself." 

8.  "I  don't  understand  your  fine  talk,"  answered  the 
Farmer  ;  "  but  I  know  that  you  are  a  thief,  and  that  you 
deserve  to  be  hanged." 

9.  His  head  is  too  thick  to  let  me  catch  him  so,  thought 
the  Fox ;  I  wonder  if  his  heart  is  any  softer  !  "  You  are 
taking  away  the  life  of  a  fellow-creature,"  he  said  ;  "  that 's 
a  responsibility,  —  it  is  a  curious  tiling,  that  life,  and  who 
knows  what  comes  after  it  ?  You  say  I  am  a  rogue.  I 
say  I  am  not ;  but  at  any  rate  I  ought  not  to  be  hanged, 
—  for  if  I  am  not,  I  don't  deserve  it ;  and  if  I  am,  you 


THE   FARMER  AND   THE   FOX.  105 

should  give  me  time  to  repent ! "    I  have  him  now,  thought 
the  Fox ;  let  him  get  out  if  he  can. 

10.  "  Why,  what  would  you  have  me  do  with  you  ? " 
said  the  man. 

11.  "  My  notion  is  that  you  should  let  me  go,  and  give 
me  a  lamb,  or  goose  or  two,  every  month,  and  then  I  could 
live  without  stealing ;  but  perhaps  you  know  better  than 
I,  and  I  am  a  rogue ;  my  education  may  have  been  neg- 
lected ;  you  should  shut  me  up,  and  take  care  of  me,  and 
teach  me.  Who  knows  but  in  the  end  I  may  turn  into  a 
dog?55 

12.  "  Very  pretty,"  said  the  Farmer;  "we  have  dogs 
enough,  and  more,  too,  than  we  can  take  care  of,  without 
you.  No,  no,  Master  Fox,  I  have  caught  you,  and  you 
shall  swing,  whatever  is  the  logic  of  it.  There  will  be  one 
rogue  less  in  the  world,  anyhow." 

13.  "  It  is  mere  hate  and  unchristian  vengeance,"  said 
the  Fox. 

14.  "  No,  friend,"  the  Farmer  answered ;  "  I  don't  hate 
you,  and  I  don't  want  to  revenge  myself  on  you ;  but  you 
and  I  can't  get  on  together,  and  I  think  I  am  of  more 
importance  than  you.  If  nettles  and  thistles  grow  in  my 
cabbage-garden,  I  don't  try  to  persuade  them  to  grow  into 
cabbages.  I  just  dig  them  up.  I  don't  hate  them ;  but  I 
feel  somehow  that  they  must  n't  hinder  me  with  my  cab- 
bages, and  that  I  must  put  them  away ;  and  so,  my  poor 
friend,  I  am   sorry  for  you,  but  I   am  afraid  you   must 

Swin§-  J.  A.  FroucU. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  You  will  hang  me  to  frighten  my  brother  foxes. 

2.  They  will  dine  at  your  expense  before  they  go  home. 

3.  Give  me  my  share,  and  I  won't  touch  yours. 

4.  I  don't  understand  your  fine  talk. 

5.  That  is  a  responsibility.     [Something  to  be  accounted  or  an- 
swered for.] 

6.  My  notion  is  that  you  should  let  me  go. 

7.  Then  I  could  live  without  stealing. 


J  06  THE   FIFTH   KEADER. 

XXXIII.  —  THE  VOICE  AND  PEN 

i. 

OTHE  orator's  Voice  is  a  mighty  power, 
As  it  echoes  from  shore  to  shore  ; 
And  the  fearless  Pen  has  more  sway  o'er  men 

Than  the  murderous  cannon's  roar. 
What  bursts  the  chain  far  o'er  the  main, 

And  brightens  the  captive's  den  ? 
'T  is  the  fearless  Voice  and  the  Pen  of  power  : 
Hurrah  for  the  Voice  and  Pen  ! 

Hurrah ! 
Hurrah  for  the  Voice  and  Pen  ! 

ii. 
The  tyrant  knaves  who  deny  our  rights, 

And  the  cowards  who  blanch  with  fear, 
Exclaim  with  glee,  "  No  arms  have  ye,  — 

Nor  cannon,  nor  sword,  nor  spear  ! 
Your  hills  are  ours  ;  with  our  forts  and  towers 

We  are  masters  of  mount  and  glen." 
Tyrants,  beware  !   for  the  arms  we  bear 

Are  the  fearless  Voice  and  Pen  ! 

in. 
Though  your  horsemen  stand  with  bridle  in  hand. 

And  your  sentinels  walk  around  ; 
Though  your  matches  flare  in  the  midnight  air, 

And  yo%ur  brazen  trumpets  sound  ; 
0,  the  orator's  tongue  shall  be  heard  among 

These  listening  warrior-men, 
And  they  '11  quickly  say,   "  Why  should  we  slay 

Our  friends  of  the  Voice  and  Pen  i  " 

IV. 

When  the  Lord  created  the  earth  and  sea, 

The  stars  and  the  glorious  sun, 
The  Godhead  spoke,  and  the  universe  woke, 

And  the  mighty  work  was  done  ! 


ELOQUENCE   OF    TATRICK   HENRY.  107 

Let  a  word  be  flung  from  the  orator's  tongue, 

Or  a  drop  from  the  fearless  Pen, 
And  the  chains  accursed  asunder  burst 

That  fettered  the  minds  of  men  ! 

v. 
0,  these  are  the  swords  with  which  we  fight, 

The  arms  in  which  we  trust  ; 
Which  no  tyrant  hand  will  dare  to  brand, 

Which  time  cannot  dim  or  rust  ! 
When  these  we  bore  we  triumphed  before, 

With  these  wTe  '11  triumph  again  ; 
And  the  world  will  say,   "  No  power  can  stay 
The  Voice  and  the  fearless  Pen  !  " 

Hurrah  ! 
Hurrah  for  the  Voice  and  Pen  ! 

D.  F.  McCarthy. 


XXXIV.  —  ELOQUENCE  OF  PATRICK  HENRY. 

DUEING-  the  distress  of  the  American  army,  caused 
by  the  invasion  of  Cornwallis  and  Phillips  in  1781, 
Mr.  Venable,  an  army  commissioner,  took  two  steers  for 
the  use  of  the  troops  from  Mr.  Hook,  a  Scotchman,  and 
a  man  of  wealth,  who  was  suspected  of  being  unfriendly 
to  the  American  cause. 

2.  The  act  was  not  strictly  legal ;  and  after  the  war  had 
closed,  Hook,  by  the  advice  of  one  Mr.  Cowan,  a  lawyer 
of  some  distinction,  thought  proper  to  bring  an  action  for 
trespass  against  Mr.  Venable. 

3.  Mr.  Henry  appeared  for  the  defendant ;  and  he  is 
said  to  have  contributed  much  to  the  enjoyment  of  his 
hearers.  At  one  time  he  excited  their  indignation  against 
Hook,  and  vengeance  was  visible  in  every  countenance ; 
again,  when  he  chose  to  ridicule  him,  the  whole  audience 
was  in  a  roar  of  laughter.  He  painted  the  distress  of  the 
American   army,  exposed   almost   naked   to  the   cold  of  a 


108  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

winter's  sky,  and  marking  the  frozen  ground  over  which 
they  marched  with  the  blood  of  their  unshod  feet. 

4.  "Where  was  the  man/1  said  he,"  who  had  an  Amer- 
ican bosom,  who  would  not  have  thrown  open  his  fields, 
his  barns,  his  cellars,  the  doors  of  his  house,  the  portals 
of  his  breast,  to  receive  with  outspread  arms  the  meanest 
soldier  in  that  little  band  of  starving  patriots  ?  Where 
is  the  man  ?  There  he  stands  ;  but  whether  the  heart 
of  an  American  beats  in  his  bosom,  you,  gentlemen,  are  to 
judge." 

5.  He  then  carried  the  jury  by  the  power  of  his  imagi- 
nation to  the  plains  of  Yorktown ;  the  surrender  of  which 
had  followed  shortly  after  the  act  complained  of.  He 
painted  the  surrender  in  the  most  glowing  and  noble 
colors  of  his  eloquence :  the  audience  saw  before  their 
eyes  the  humbled  and  dejected  British  as  they  marched 
out  of  their  trenches ;  they  saw  the  triumph  which  lighted 
up  every  patriotic  face ;  they  heard  the  shout  of  "  Vic- 
tory ! "  the  cry  of  "  Washington  and  liberty  ! "  as  it  rung 
and  echoed  through  the  American  ranks,  and  was  re- 
echoed from  the  hills,  and  from  the  shores  of  the  neigh- 
boring river. 

6.  "  But  hark  ! "  continued  Henry,  "  what  notes  of  dis- 
cord are  these  which  disturb  the  general  joy,  and  silence 
the  acclamations  of  victory  ?  They  are  the  notes  of  John 
Hook,  hoarsely  bawling  through  the  American  camp, 
Beef !  beef !  beef  ! " 

7.  The  court  was  convulsed  with  laughter  ;  the  jury 
retired,  and,  we  regret  to  say,  John  Hook  lost  his  cause. 

Wirt. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  Mr.  Yenable  took  two  steers  for  the  use  of  the  troops. 

2.  The  act  was  not  strictly  legal. 

3.  Vengeance  was  visible  in  every  countenance. 

4.  The  surrender  of  Yorktown  followed  shortly  after  this  act. 

5.  They  saw  the  triumph  which  lighted  up  every  patriotic  face. 
G  What  notes  of  discord  silence  the  acclamations  of  victory  ? 


THE   DISCOVERY   OF   AMERICA.  109 

XXXV.  —  THE  DISCOVERY  OF  AMERICA 

i. 

COLUMBUS  on  the  lonesome  deck 
Keeps  watch  at  dead  of  night, 
Searching  with  anxious  eyes  the  dark  , 
What  sees  he  far  away  1     A  spark, 
A  little  glimmering  light. 

ii. 
Then  boomed  the  Pinta's  signal  gun  ! 

The  first  that  ever  broke 
The  silence  of  a  world.     That  sound, 
Echoing  to  savage  depths  profound, 

A  continent  awoke  . 

in. 
Wild  joy  possessed  each  mariner's  breast, 

When  day  revealed  a  rich 
And  fruitful  island,  fair  and  green, 
Where  naked  savages  were  seen 

Running  along  the  beach. 

IV. 

The  Saint  Maria  moves  proudly  up, 

And  drops  her  anchor  nighest; 
And  "  Glory  to  God  !  "  the  sailors  sing  ; 
With  "  Glory  to  God  !  "  the  wild  winds  ring,  — 

"  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest  !  " 

v. 

The  boat  is  manned,  and  towards  the  land 

Swift  fly  the  flashing  oars. 
High  at  the  prow  the  admiral, 
In  princely  garb,  superb  and  tall, 

Surveys  the  savage  shores. 

VI. 

They  touch  the  strand,  he  stepped  to  land, 

And  knelt  and  kissed  the  sod, 
With  all  his  followers.  Amazed, 
Far  off  the  painted  red  men  gazed, 

Believing  him  a  god. 


110  THE   FIFTH   KEADER. 

VII. 

Then  up  rose  he,  and  solemnly, 

With  bright  sword  drawn,  advanced 
The  standard  of  the  King  and  Queen  ;  — • 
On  its  rich  sheen  of  gold  and  green. 
The  sunrise  glory  glanced. 

VIII. 

With  wondering  awe,  the  red  men  saw 

The  silken  cross  unfurled. 
His  task  was  done  ;  for  good  or  ill, 
The  fatal  banners  of  Castile 

Waved  o'er  the  Western  World. 

J.  T.  Trowbridge. 


XXXVI. —ART  AND  ARTISTS. 

ri  ^HERE  was  once  a  boy  who  fancied  he  should  like  to 
-L  do  as  Eobinson  Crusoe  did.  He  got  some  pieces  of 
wood  together,  with  a  chopper,  a  hammer,  and  some  nails, 
and  built  himself  a  hut  in  the  garden.  Into  this  hut  he 
used  to  go,  and  pretend  to  himself  that  he  was  shipwrecked 
on  a  desolate  island. 

2.  This  boy  had  a  sister,  who  after  looking  into  her 
father's  books  one  day,  came  to  him  and  said,  "  Papa,  what 
is  art  ? " 

Papa  made  answer,  "  Art,  dear,  is  make-believe." 

3.  "  Then,  papa,  I  suppose  Tom  was  an  artist,  when  he 
made  believe  he  was  Ptobinson  Crusoe  in  the  garden,"  said 
the  little  girl. 

4.  Let  us  look  at  this  subject  a  little,  and  we  shall  find 
it  not  so  hard  as  it  appears. 

5.  Tf  an  artist  is  a  man  who  makes  believe,  and  if  that 
little  boy  was  making  believe  when  Ire  pretended  to  him- 
self that  he  was  Robinson  Crusoe  in  the  garden,  why  was 
not  that  art,  and  why  was  he  not  an  artist  ? 


ART   AND   ARTJSTS.  HI 

6.  There  are  several  reasons ;  but  I  am  going  to  speak 
of  just  two.  The  first  is  this,  that  the  boy  was  only  imi- 
tating. 

7.  There  was  once  a  sailor,  in  a  ship  on  the  coast  of 
China,  wiio  wanted  a.  new  pair  of  trousers  made.  Now  the 
Chinese  can  imitate  anything  very  cleverly.  So  the  sailor 
sent  his  own  patched  trousers  to  a  Chinaman  along  with 
some  cloth,  and  said,  "  Make  me  a  pair  of  trousers  like  this 
pattern." 

8.  I  am  sure  you  can  guess  wThat  the  Chinaman  did,  — 
he  made  an  exact  copy  of  the  trousers,  with  all  the  patches. 

9.  Now  art  is  make-believe,  which  shows  us  things  made 
after  the  patterns  there  are  in  the  world ;  but  it  is  not 
copying,  like  that  of  the  Chinese  tailor.  This  tailor  copied 
the  patch  and  sent  the  job  home,  thinking  that  trousers 
were  intended  to  be  patched. 

10.  An  artist  may  make  a  picture,  or  a  statue,  or  a  tale, 
or  a  poem,  in  which  he  puts  a  broken-hearted  woman  or  a 
wicked  man,  but  he  must  not  do  this  as  if  he  thought 
women  were  intended  to  be  broken-hearted,  or  men  to  be 
wicked  ;  because,  if  he  did,  his  work  would  turn  out  ugly, 
and  nothing  can  be  a  work  of  art  that  is  not  beautiful. 

11.  The  second  reason  is  this,  that  the  Eobinson 
Crusoe  boy  was  only  making  believe  to  himself  for  his  own 
pleasure. 

12.  But  the  man  who  is  really  an  artist  does  not,  in 
making  what  we  call  works  of  art,  seek  his  own  pleasure. 
His  work  is  often  painful  to  him,  and  yet  he  goes  on  with 
it  and  his  one  wish  is  to  make  it  perfect. 

13.  He  could  not  tell  you  why  he  was  fonder  of  perfect 
make-believe  than  of  anything  else ;  but  the  one  thing 
above  all  that  makes  a  man  an  artist  is  that  he  loves  his 
make-believe  for  its  own  sake,  —  not  for  pleasure  or  profit, 
but  for  itself. 

14.  You  will  not,  all  of  you,  understand  this  without 
turning  it  over  in  your  own  minds  a  good  deal ;  but  if  you 
notice  other  boys  and  girls,  even  when  they  are  very  young, 


112  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

you  will  observe  in  them  a  great  difference  in  their  way 
of  doing  whatever  work  they  have  to  do. 

15.  The  kind  of  work  which  we  call  art  consists  in 
picking  different  things  out  and  copying  them,  or  making 
us  feel  about  them  in  such  a  way  that  we  shall  call  the 
make-believe  beautiful. 

16.  Some  men  and  women  are  skilful  in  picking  out  and 
putting  different  sounds  together  into  melodies  and  har- 
monies ;  and  these  we  call  musicians.  Some  are  skilful 
in  putting  words  together  in  time  or  rhyme,  or  both,  in  such 
ways  that  they  make  us  see  or  feel  over  again  something 
that  affects  us  ;  and  these,  you  know,  are  poets. 

17.  Others  are  very  skilful  in  picking  out  and  mixing 
in  a  beautiful  make-believe  certain  kinds  of  shapes  or 
colors ;  and  these  are  painters  or  sculptors. 

18.  Then  suppose  you  think  of  a  sad  or  a  joyful  story, 
—  the  painter  could  paint  part  of  it ;  the  sculptor  could 
carve  part  of  it  in  stone  ;  the  musician  could  make  music 
about  it  which  you  would  at  once  know  was  either  sad  or 
joyful;  the  poet  might  make  beautiful  verses  about  it;  and 
the  story-teller  might  put  it  into  prose  in  such  a  way  that 
all  the  world  who  read  it  would  be  affected  by  it. 

19.  If  you  were  to  read  in  a  book  that  "  Art  speaks  a 
universal  language,"  you  would  not  understand  it  at  all, 
but  you  will  understand  a  little  if  I  put  it  in  this  way. 
There  may  be  a  story  which  will  make  us  laugh  or  make 
us  cry,  or  both,  if  we  know  certain  things  about  the  people 
in  it,  but  it  will  not  make  all  persons  laugh  or  cry  if  they 
do  not  know  what  we  know.  Yet  a  man  who  is  skilful 
in  the  make-believe  that  we  call  Art  will  be  able  to  tell 
that  story  in  such  a  way  that  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
people  shall  laugh  and  cry  at  it,  though  they  have  none 
of  our  knowledge. 

20.  And  so  it  happens  that  men  who  were  poets, 
painters,  musicians,  sculptors,  and  story-tellers  have  made 
for  us  beautiful  poems  and  stories,  beautiful  statues,  beauti- 
ful pictures,  and  beautiful  pieces  of  music  ;  and  though  this 


WAR-SONG.  113 

is  all  make-believe,  it  not  only  does  us  good  by  giving  us 
very  great  pleasure,  but  it  teaches  us  things  about  the 
world  and  each  other  that  we  never  knew  before. 

21.  That  is  because,  as  I  have  said,  it  is  not  mere  copy- 
ing, like  that  of  the  Chinese  tailor,  or  just  an  image  like 
one  in  a  looking-glass  ;  for  the  artist  has  put  the  different 
parts  of  his  work  together  as  we  never  saw  them  before,  and 
so  we  have  fresh  thoughts  and  feelings  about  them,  as  if 
another  world  had  been  made  for  us  out  of  the  very  world 
we  know  so  well. 


XXXVII.  —  WAR-SONG. 

i. 

FREEDOM  calls  you  !    Quick  !  be  ready,  - 
Rouse  ye  in  the  name  of  God  ! 
Onward,  onward  !  strong  and  steady,  — 
Dash  to  earth  the  oppressor's  rod. 
Freedom  calls,  ye  brave,  ye  brave  ! 
Rise,  and  spurn  the  name  of  slave. 

IT. 

Grasp  the  sword  !  —  its  edge  is  keen ; 
Seize  the  gun  !  —  its  ball  is  true  : 
Sweep  your  land  from  tyrant  clean,  — 
Haste,  and  scour  it  through  and  through ! 

Onward,  onward  !   Freedom  cries  ; 

Rush  to  arms,  —  the  tyrant  flies. 

in. 
Freedom  calls  you  !    Quick  !  be  ready,  — 
Think  of  what  your  sires  have  been. 
Onward,  onward  !  strong  and  steady,  — 
Drive  the  tyrant  to  his  den  ! 

On  !  and  let  the  watchwords  be, 
Country,  home,  and  liberty ! 

James  G.  Percival. 


114  THE   FIFTH   KEADER. 

XXXVIII.  —  THE  PRACTICAL  JOKER. 

THE  dinner  was  dispatched,  and  by  seven  o'clock  my 
new  friend  and  myself  were  left  to  commence  our 
voyage  up  the  river.  His  spirits  appeared  even  higher 
than  they  had  been  before  ;  and  his  witty  sallies  and  reck- 
less impudence  kept  me  in  a  constant  shiver  of  delight  and 
apprehension. 

2.  His  first  victim  was  a  very  respectable,  round-bodied 
gentleman,  who  was  sitting  squeezed  into  the  stern-sheets 
of  a  skiff,  floating  most  agreeably  to  himself  down  the 
stream,  the  gentle  southwest  breeze  giving  the  sail  of  his 
boat  a  shape  very  similar  to  that  of  his  equally  well-filled 
white-dimity  waistcoat. 

3.  "  Hollo  ! "  cried  my  friend  Daly  ;  "  I  say,  you  sir, 
what  are  you  doing  in  that  boat  ? " 

The  plump  gentleman  maintained  a  dignified  silence. 

4.  "  I  say,  you  sir,"  continued  the  undaunted  joker, 
"  what  are  you  doing  there  ?  You  have  no  business  in 
that  boat,  and  you  know  it ! " 

A  slight  yaw  of  the  skiff'  into  the  wind's  eye  was  the 
only  proof  of  the  stout  navigator's  agitation. 

5.  Still  Daly  wTas  inexorable,  and  he  again  called  to  the 
unhappy  mariner  to  get  out  of  the  boat.  "  I  tell  you,  my 
fat  friend,"  cried  he,  "you  have  no  business  in  that  boat \n 

6.  Flesh  and  blood  could  not  endure  this  reiterated 
declaration  The  ire  of  the  cockney  was  roused  "  No 
business  in  this  boat,  sir  !"  'cried  he  ;  "  what  d'  ye  mean  ? ,: 

7.  "  I  mean  what  I  say,"  said  Daly ;  "  you  have  no  busi- 
ness in  it,  and  I  '11  prove  it," 

8.  "  I  think,  sir,  you  will  prove  no  such  thing,"  said  the 
navigator,  whose  progress  through  the  water  was  none  of 
the  quickest;  "  perhaps  you  don't  know,  sir,  that  this  is 
my  own  pleasure-boat  ?  r 

9.  u  That's  it,"  said  Daly;  "  now  you  have  it,  —  no  man 
can  have  any  business  in  a  pleasure-ho&t.      Good-day,  sir. 

That's   all"  Theodore  Hook.  — Adapted. 


GEORGE  NIDIVER.  1J5 

XXXIX.  —  GEORGE  NIDIVER. 

i. 

MEN  have  done  brave  deeds, 
And  bards  have  sung  them  well : 
I  of  good  George  Nidiver 
Now  the  tale  will  tell. 
In  Californian  mountains 
A  hunter  bold  was  he  : 
Keen  his  eye  and  sure  his  aim 
As  any  you  should  see. 

ii. 
A  little  Indian  boy 

Followed  him  everywhere, 
Eager  to  share  the  hunter's  joy, 

The  hunter's  meal  to  share. 
And  when  the  bird  or  deer    * 

Fell  by  the  hunter's  skill, 
The  boy  was  always  near 

To  help  with  right  good-will. 

in. 
One  day  as  through  the  cleft 

Between  two  mountains  steep, 
Shut  in  both  right  and  left, 

Their  questing  way  they  keep, 
They  see  two  grizzly  bears 

With  hunger  fierce  and  fell 
Rush  at  them  unawares, 

Right  down  the  narrow  dell. 

IV 

The  boy  turned  round  with  screams. 

And  ran  with  terror  wild ; 
One  of  the  pair  of  savage  beasts 

Pursued  the  shrieking  child. 
The  hunter  raised  his  gun,  — 

He  knew  one  charge  was  all,  — 
And  through  the  boy?s  pursuing  foe 

He  sent  his  only  ball. 


116  THE  FIFTH  HEADER 

v. 

The  other  on  George  Nidiver 

Came  on  with  dreadful  pace : 
The  hunter  stood  unarmed, 

And  met  him  face  to  face. 
I  say  unarmed  he  stood. 

Against  those  frightful  paws 
The  rifle-butt  or  club  of  wood 

Could  stand  no  more  than  straws. 

VI. 

George  Nidiver  stood  still 

And  looked  him  in  the  face ; 
The  wild  beast  stopped  amazed, 

Then  came  with  slackening  pace. 
Still  firm  the  hunter  stood, 

Although  his  heart  beat  high  ; 
Again  the  creature  stopped, 

And  gazed  with  wondering  eye. 

VII. 

The  hunter  met  his  gaze, 

Nor  yet  an  inch  gave  way ; 
The  bear  turned  slowly  round, 

And  slowly  moved  away. 
What  thoughts  were  in  his  mind 

It  would  be  hard  to  spell; 
What  thoughts  were  in  George  Nidiver 

I  rather  guess  than  tell. 
But  sure  that  rifle's  aim, 

Swift  choice  of  generous  part, 
Showed  in  its  passing  gleam 

The  depths  of  a  brave  heart. 

"Society  and  Solitude." 

EXERCISE. 

1.  They  keep  their  questing  way  between  two  steep  mountains. 
[Searching.] 

2.  Two  grizzly  bears  rush  at  them  unawares. 

3.  They  were  fierce  and  fell.     [Bloodthirsty.] 

4.  One  of  the  savage  beasts  pursued  the  shrieking  child. 


LADD  AND  HIS  NEIGHBOR.  117 


XL.  —  LADD  AND  HIS  NEIGHBOR. 


I  HAD,"  sa: 
fine  field  o 


said  William  Ladd,  the  apostle  of  peace,  "a 
of  grain,  growing  upon  an  out-farm,  at  some 
distance  from  the  homestead.  Whenever  I  rode  by  I  saw 
my  neighbor  Pulcifer's  sheep  in  the  lot,  destroying  my  hopes 
of  a  harvest.  These  sheep  were  of  the  gaunt,  long-legged 
kind,  active  as  spaniels;  they  would  spring  over  the  highest 
fence,  and  no  partition- wall  could  keep  them  out. 

2.  "  I  complained  to  neighbor  Pulcifer  about  them,  sent 
him  frequent  messages,  but  all  without  avail.  Perhaps  they 
would  be  kept  out  for  a  day  or  two ;  but  the  legs  of  his 
sheep  were  long,  and  my  grain  more  tempting  than  the 
adjoining  pasture.  I  rode  by  again,  —  the  sheep  were  still 
there.  I  became  angry,  and  told  my  men  to  set  the  dogs 
on  them;  and,  if  that  would  not  do,  I  would  pay  them  if 
they  would  shoot  the  sheep. 

3.  "  I  rode  away  much  agitated ;  for  I  was  not  so  much 
of  a  peace  man  then  as  I  am  now,  and  I  felt  literally  full 
of  fight.  All  at  once  a  light  flashed  in  upon  me.  I  asked 
myself,  'Would  it  not  be  well  for  you  to  try  in  your  own 
conduct  the  peace  principle  you  are  teaching  to  others?' 
I  thought  it  all  over,  and  settled  in  my  mind  as  to  the 
best  course  to  be  pursued.  The  next  day  I  rode  over  to  see 
neighbor  Pulcifer.    I  found  him  chopping  wrood  at  his  door. 

4.  "'Good  morning,  neighbor!'  No  answer.  'Good 
morning ! '  I  repeated.  He  gave  a  kind  of  grunt,  without 
looking  up.  'I  came,'  continued  I,  'to  see  about  the  sheep.' 
At  this  he  threw  down  his  ax  and  exclaimed,  in  an  angry 
manner,  '  Now  are  n't  you  a  pretty  neighbor,  to  tell  your 
men  to  kill  my  sheep!  I  heard  of  it;  a  rich  man,  like  you, 
to  shoot  a  poor  man's  sheep  ! ' 

5.  '"I  was  wrong,  neighbor,'  said  I ;  ' but  it  won't  do  to 
let  your  sheep  eat  up  all  that  grain ;  so  I  came  over  to  say 
that  I  wrould  take  your  sheep  to  my  homestead  pasture,  and 
put  them  in  with  mine ;  and  in  the  fall  you  shall  take  them 
back,  and  if  any  one  is  missing,  you  may  take  your  pick 
out  of  my  whole  flock.' 


118  THE  ±1ETH  DEADER. 

6.  "Pulcifer  looked  confounded;  lie  did  not  kaow  how 
to  take  me.  At  last  he  stammered  out :  '  Now,  Squire,  are 
you  in  earnest?'  '  Certainly  I  am/  I  answered;  ' it  is  better 
for  me  to  feed  your  sheep  in  my  pasture  on  grass  than  to  feed 
them  here  on  grain;  and  I  see  the  fence  can't  keep  them  out.' 

7.  "  After  a  moment's  silence,  '  The  sheep  sha'  n't  trouble 
you  any  more,'  exclaimed  Pulcifer.  '  I  will  fetter  them  all. 
But  I  '11  let  you  know  that  when  men  talk  of  shooting,  I 
can  shoot  too  ;  and  when  they  are  kind  and  neighborly,  I 
can  be  kind  too.' 

8.  "  The  sheep  never  again  trespassed  on  my  lot.  And, 
my  friends,"  he  would  continue,  addressing  the  audience, 
"  remember  that  when  you  talk  of  injuring  your  neighbors, 
they  will  talk  of  injuring  you.  When  nations  threaten  to 
fight,  other  nations  will  be  ready  too.  Love  will  beget  love ; 
a  wish  to  be  at  peace  will  keep  you  in  peace.  You  can 
overcome  evil  with  good.     There  is  no  other  way." 


XLI.  —  THJE  BURIAL    OF  MOSES. 

i. 

BY  Nebo's  lonely  mountain, 
On  this  side  Jordan's  wave, 
In  a  vale  in  the  land  of  Moab, 

There  lies  a  lonely  grave  ; 
And  no  man  dug  that  sepulcher, 

And  no  man  saw  it  e'er, 
For  the  angels  of  God  upturned  the  sod, 
And  laid  the  dead  man  there. 

ii. 
That  was  the  grandest  funeral 

That  ever  passed  on  earth ; 
But  no  man  heard  the  trampling, 

Or  saw  the  train  go  forth. 
Noiselessly  as  the  daylight 

Comes  when  the  night  is  done, 
And  the  crimson  streak  on  ocean's  cheek 

Grows  into  the  tjreat  sun.  — 


L'HE   13U1UAL  OF  MOSES.  119 

ill. 
Noiselessly  as  the  Spring-time 

Her  crown  of  verdure  weaves, 
And  all  the  trees  on  all  the  hills 

Open  their  thousand  leaves  ; 
So  without  sound  of  music, 

Or  voice  of  them  that  wept, 
Silently  down  from  the  mountain's  crowm 

The  great  procession  swTept. 

IV. 

Perchance  the  bald  old  eagle 

On  gray  Bethpeors  height 
Out  of  his  rocky  eyry 

Looked  on  the  wondrous  sight ; 
Perchance  the  lion  stalking 

Still  shuns  that  hallowed  spot ; 
For  beast  and  bird  have  seen  and  heard 

That  which  man  knoweth  not. 

v. 

And  had  he  not  high  honor, 

The  hillside  for  his  pall, 
To  lie  in  state  while  angels  wait, 

With  stars  for  tapers  tall, 
And  the  dark  rock-pines  like  tossing  plumes 

Over  his  bier  to  wave, 
And  God's  own  hand,  in  that  lonely  land, 

To  lay  him  in  the  grave  % 

VI. 

O  lonely  tomb  in  Moab's  land  ! 

0  dark  Bethpeors  hill ! 
Speak  to  these  curious  hearts  of  ours 

And  teach  them  to  be  still ; 
God  hath  his  mysteries  of  grace, 

Things  wThich  we  cannot  tell  ; 
He  hides  them  deep,  like  the  secret  sleep 

Of  him  he  loved  so  well. 

C.  F.  Alexander.  —  Abridged. 


120  THE  FIFTH  HEADER. 

XLII.  —  GdPTUJRH  OF  TICONDEROGA. 

THE  men  were  now  drawn  up  in  three  ranks,  and  as 
the  first  beams  of  morning  broke  upon  the  mountain 
peaks  Allen  addressed  them :  "  Friends  and  fellow-sol- 
diers,—  We  must  this  morning  quit  our  pretensions  to  valor, 
or  possess  ourselves  of  this  fortress  ;  and  inasmuch  as  it  is 
a  desperate  attempt,  I  do  not  urge  it  on,  contrary  to  will. 
You  that  will  undertake  voluntarily,  poise  your  firelock." 

2.  At  the  word  every  firelock  was  poised.  "  Face  to  the 
right,"  cried  Allen ;  and  placing  himself  at  the  head  of  the 
center  file,  Arnold  keeping  emulously  at  his  side,  he 
marched  to  the  gate.  It  was  shut,  but  the  wicket  was 
open.  The  sentry  snapped  a  fusee  at  him.  The  Ameri- 
cans rushed  into  the  fort,  darted  upon  the  guards,  and 
raising  the  Indian  war-whoop,  such  as  had  not  been  heard 
there  since  the  days  of  Montcalm,  formed  on  the  parade  in 
hollow  square,  to  face  each  of  the  barracks. 

3.  One  of  the  sentries,  after  wounding  an  officer,  and 
being  slightly  wounded  himself,  cried  out  for  quarter,  and 
showed  the  way  to  the  apartment  of  the  commanding  offi- 
cer. "  Come  forth  instantly,  or  I  will  sacrifice  the  whole 
garrison,"  cried  Ethan  Allen,  as  he  reached  the  door.  At 
this,  Delaplace,  the  commander,  came  out  undressed,  with 
some  of  his  garments  in  his  hand. 

4.  "  Deliver  me  the  fort  instantly,"  said  Allen.  "  By 
what  authority  ? "  asked  Delaplace.  "  In  the  name  of  the 
great  Jehovah,  and  the  Continental  Congress  ! "  answered 
Allen.  Delaplace  began  to  speak  again,  but  was  peremp- 
torily interrupted,  and  at  sight  of  Allen's  drawn  sword 
near  his  head  he  gave  up  the  garrison,  ordering  his  men  to 
be  paraded  without  arms. 

5.  Thus  was  Ticonderoga  taken  in  the  gray  of  the  morn- 
ing of  the  10th  of  May,  1775.  What  cost  the  British 
nation  eight  millions  sterling,  a  succession  of  campaigns 
and  many  lives,  was  won  in  ten  minutes  by  a  few  undisci- 
plined men,  without  the  loss  of  life  or  limb. 

Bancroft. 


A   BIRD'S-NEST. 


121 


XL  III.  —  A  BIRD'S  NEST. 


OVER  my  shaded  doorway 
Two  little  brown-winged  birds 
Have  chosen  to  fashion  their  dwelling, 

And  utter  their  loving  words  ; 
All  day  they  are  going  and  coming 

On  errands  frequent  and  fleet, 
And  warbling  over  and  over, 

"  Sweet,  sweet,  sweet,  0  sweet !  " 

IT. 

Their  necks  are  changeful  and  shining, 

Their  eyes  are  like  living  gems ; 
And  all  day  long  they  are  busy 

Gathering  straws  and  stems, 
Lint  and  feathers  and  grasses, 

And  half  forgetting  to  eat, 
Yet  never  failing  to  warble, 

"  Sweetest,  sweet,  sweet,  0  sweet !  " 


122  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

in. 
I  scatter  crumbs  on  the  doorstep, 

And  fling  them  some  flossy  threads  ; 
They  fearlessly  gather  my  bounty, 

And  turn  up  their  graceful  heads. 
And  chatter  and  dance  and  flutter, 

And  scrape  with  their  tiny  feet, 
Telling  me  over  and  over, 

"  Sweetest,  sweet,  sweet,  0  sweet ! ' 

IV. 

What  if  the  sky  is  clouded  ? 

What  if  the  rain  comes  down  ? 
They  are  all  dressed  to  meet  it, 

In  water-proof  suits  of  browm. 
They  never  mope  nor  languish 

Nor  murmur  at  storm  or  heat, 
But  say,  whatever  the  weather, 

"Sweetest,  sweet,  sweet,  0  sweet!'' 

v. 
AlwTays  merry  and  busy, 

Dear  little  brown-winged  birds  ' 
Teach  me  the  happy  magic 

Hidden  in  those  soft  words, 
Which  always,  in  shine  or  shadow, 

So  lovingly  you  repeat, 
Over  and  over  and  over, 

"  Sweetest,  sweet,  sweet,  0  sweet !  " 

Florence  Percy 


EXERCISE. 

1.  Two  little  birds  have  chosen  to  fashion  their  dwelling, 

2.  All  day  long  they  are  busy,  yet  never  failing  to  warble. 

3.  I  scatter  crumbs  on  the  doorstep,  and  fling  them  threads. 

4.  What  if  the  sky  is  clouded?     What  if  the  rain  comes  down  \ 

5.  They  are  all  dressed  to  meet  it,  in  water-proof  suits. 

6.  They  never  mope  nor  languish  nor  murmur. 


THE   RETURN    OF   COLUMBUS.  123 

XLlV.-r.fftf  RETURN  OF  COLUMBUS. 

DON   GOMEZ   AND    HIS    SECRETARY. 

DON  GOMEZ.     What !   What  is   this   you  tell  me  ? 
Columbus  returned  ?  A  new  world  discovered  ?    Im- 
possible ! 

Secretary.  It  is  even  so,  sir.  A  courier  arrived  at  the 
palace  but  an  hour  since  with  the  intelligence.  Columbus 
was  driven  by  stress  of  weather  to  anchor  in  the  Tagus. 
All  Portugal  is  in  a  ferment  of  enthusiasm,  and  all  Spain 
will  be  equally  excited  soon.     The  sensation  is  prodigious. 

Don  G.    0,  it  is  a  trick  !     It  must  be  a  trick  ! 

Sec.  But  he  has  brought  home  the  proofs  of  his  visit,  — 
gold  and  precious  stones,  strange  plants  and  animals  ;  and, 
above  all,  specimens  of  a  new  race  of  men,  copper-colored, 
with  straight  hair. 

Don  G.  Still  I  say,  a  trick !  He  has  been  coasting 
along  the  African  shore,  and  there  collected  a  few  curiosi- 
ties, which  he  is  palming  off  for  proofs  of  his  pretended 
discovery. 

Sec.  It  is  a  little  singular  that  all  his  men  should  be 
leagued  with  him  in  keeping  up  so  unprofitable  a  falsehood. 

Don  G.  But  'tis  against  reason,  against  common  sense, 
that  such  a  discovery  should  be  made. 

Sec.  King  John  of  Portugal  has  received  him  with  royal 
magnificence,  has  listened  to  his  accounts,  and  is  persuaded 
that  they  are  true. 

Don  G.  We  shall  see,  we  shall  see.  Look  you,  sir,  a 
plain  matter-of-fact  man,  such  as  I,  is  not  to  be  taken  in 
by  any  such  preposterous  story.  This  vaunted  discovery 
will  turn  out  no  discovery  at  all. 

Sec.  The  king  and  queen  have  given  orders  for  prepara- 
tions on  the  most  magnificent  scale  for  the  reception  of 
Columbus. 

Don  G.   What  delusion !     Her  Majesty  is  so  credulous 
A  practical,  common-sense  man,  like  myself,  can  find  no 
points  of  sympathy  in  her  nature. 


124  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

Sec.  The  Indians  on  board  the  returned  vessels  are  said 
to  be  unlike  any  known  race  of  men. 

Don  G.  Very  unreliable  all  that !  I  take  the  common- 
sense  view  of  the  thing.  I  am  a  matter-of-fact  man ;  and 
do  you  remember  what  I  say,  it  will  all  turn  out  a  trick ! 
The  crews  may  have  been  deceived.  Columbus  may  have 
steered  a  southerly  course  instead  of  a  westerly.  Any- 
thing is  probable,  rather  than  that  a  coast  to  the  westward 
of  us  has  been  discovered. 

Sec.  I  saw  the  courier,  who  told  me  he  had  conversed 
with  all  the  sailors  ;  and  they  laughed  at  the  suspicion 
that  there  could  be  any  mistake  about  the  discovery,  or 
that  any  other  than  a  westerly  course  had  been  steered. 

Don  G.  Still  I  say,  a  trick !  An  unknown  coast  reached 
by  steering  west  ?  Impossible  !  The  earth  a  globe,  and 
men  standing  with  their  heads  down  in  space  ?  Folly  ! 
An  ignorant  sailor  from  Genoa  in  the  right,  and  all  our 
learned  doctors  and  philosophers  in  the  wrong  ?  Nonsense ! 
I'm  a  matter-of-fact  man,  sir.  I  will  believe  what  I  can 
see,  and  handle,  and  understand.  But  as  for  believing  in 
the  antipodes,  or  that  the  earth  is  round,  or  that  Colum- 
bus has  discovered  land  to  the  west  —  Eing  the  bell,  sir ; 
call  my  carriage ;  I  will  go  to  the  palace  and  undeceive 
the  king.  vinet. 


XLV.  —  THE   GLOVE  AND   THE  LIONS. 

i. 

KING  FRANCIS  was  a  hearty  king,  and   loved  a  royal 
sport, 
And  one  day,  as  his  lions  fought,  sat  looking  on  the  court ; 
The  nobles  filled  the  benches,  with  the  ladies  in  their  pride, 
And  'mongst  them  sat  the  Count  de  Lorge,  with  one  for  whom 

he  sighed  : 
And  truly  't  was  a  gallant  thing  to  see  that  crowning  show,  — 
Valor  and  love,  and  a  kin^  above,  and  the  roval  beasts  below. 


THE  GLOVE  AND  THE  LIONS.  125 

II. 

Ramped  and  roared  the  lions,  with  horrid  laughing  jaws ; 
They  bit,  they  glared,  gave  blows  like  beams,  a  wind  went  with 

their  paws  ; 
With  wallowing  might  and  stifled  roar,  they  rolled  on  one  an- 
other, 
Till   all   the    pit,  with  sand   and  mane,  was   in  a  thunderous 

smother  ; 
The  bloody  foam  above  the  bars  came  whisking  through  the 

air : 
Said  Francis,  then,  "  Faith,  gentlemen,  we  're  better  here  than 

there." 

in. 
De  Lorge's  love  o'erheard  the  king,  —  a  beauteous,  lively  dame, 
With  smiling  lips,  and  sharp,  bright  eyes,  which  always  seemed 

the  same ; 
She  thought,  "  The  Count,  my  lover,  is  brave  as  brave  can  be, 
He  surely  would  do  wondrous  things  to  show  his  love  of  me  j 
King,  ladies,  lovers,  all  look  on ;  the  occasion  is  divine ; 
I  Tl    drop  my  glove,   to  prove  his  love ;  great  glory  will  be 

mine." 

IV. 

She  dropped  her  glove,  to  prove  his  love;  then  looked  at  him, 

and  smiled  ; 
He  bowed,  and  in  a  moment  leaped  among  the  lions  wild  : 
The  leap  was  quick,  return  was  quick,  he   soon  regained  the 

place, 
Then  threw  the  glove,  but  not  with  love,  right  in  the  lady's  face. 
"In  faith,"  cried   Francis,  "rightly  done!"   and  he  rose  from 

where  he  sat ; 
" No  love"  quoth  he,  " but  vanity,  sets  love  a  task  like  that." 

Leigh  Hunt. 

EXERCISE. 

1.  King  Francis  was  a  hearty  king,  and  loved  a  royal  sport. 

2.  The  nobles  filled  the  benches,  with  the  ladies  by  their  side. 

3.  Truly  't  was  a  gallant  thing  to  see  that  crowning  show. 

4.  The  lions  ramped  and  roared,  with  horrid  laughing  jaws. 

5.  They  bit,  they  glared,  gave  blows  like  beams. 

6.  No  love,  quoth  he,  but  vanity,  sets  love  a  task  like  that 


126  THE  FIFTH  KEADEK. 

XL  VI.  —  THE  PERSIAN  AND  HIS  THREE  SONS 

AEICH  Persian,  feeling  himself  growing  old,  and  con- 
scious that  the  cares  and  anxieties  of  business  were 
too  much  for  him,  resolved  to  divide  his  goods  among  his 
three  sons,  reserving  a  small  portion  to  himself  as  a  provision 
for  his  latter  years.  The  sons  were  all  well  satisfied  with 
the  distribution,  and  each  took  his  share  with  thanks,  and 
promised  that  it  should  be  well  and  frugally  employed. 

2.  "When  this  important  business  was  settled,  the  father 
said  to  his  sons,  "  There  is  one  thing  which  I  have  not 
included  in  the  share  of  any  one  of  you.  It  is  this  costly 
diamond  which  you  see  in  my  hand.  I  will  give  it  to  that 
one  of  you  who  shall  earn  it  by  the  noblest  deed.  Go, 
therefore,  and  travel  for  three  months  ;  at  the  end  of  that 
time  we  will  meet  here  again,  and  you  shall  tell  me  what 
you  have  done." 

3.  The  sons  departed  accordingly,  and  traveled  three 
months,  each  in  a  different  direction.  At  the  end  of  that 
time  they  returned ;  and  all  came  together  to  their  father 
to  give  an  account  of  their  journey. 

4.  The  eldest  son  spoke  first.  He  said :  "  On  my  jour- 
ney a  stranger  intrusted  to  me  a  great  number  of  valuable 
jewels,  without  taking  any  account  of  them.  Indeed,  I  was 
well  aware  that  he  did  not  know  how  many  the  parcel 
contained.  One  or  two  of  them  would  never  have  been 
missed,  and  I  might  easily  have  enriched  myself  without 
/ear  of  detection.  But  I  did  no  such  thing  ;  I  gave  back 
the  parcel  exactly  as  I  had  received  it.  Was  not  this  a 
noble  deed  ? " 

5.  "  My  son,"  said  the  father,  "  simple  honesty  cannot 
be  called  noble.  You  did  what  was  right,  and  nothing 
more.  If  you  had  acted  otherwise,  you  would  have  been 
dishonest,  and  your  deed  would  have  shamed  you.  You 
have  done  well,  but  not  nobly." 


THE   PERSIAN   AND   HIS   THREE   SONS.  127 

6.  The  second  son  now  spoke.  He  said  :  "As  I  was 
wending  on  my  journey,  I  one  day  saw  a  poor  child  play- 
ing by  the  margin  of  a  lake  ;  and,  just  as  I  rode  by,  it  fell 
into  the  water,  and  was  in  danger  of  being  drowned.  I 
immediately  dismounted  from  my  horse,  and,  wading  into 
the  water,  brought  it  safe  to  land.  All  the  people  of  the 
village  where  this  occurred  can  bear  witness  of  the  deed. 
Was  it  not  a  noble  action  ?  " 

7.  "  My  son,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  you  did  only  what 
was  your  duty,  and  you  could  hardly  have  left  the  inno- 
cent child  to  die  without  making  an  effort  to  save  it.  You, 
too,  have  acted  well,  but  not  nobly." 

8.  Then  the  third  son  came  forward  to  tell  his  tale. 
He  said :  "  I  had  an  enemy,  who  for  years  has  done  me 
much  harm  and  sought  to  take  my  life.  One  evening,  dur- 
ing my  late  journey,  I  was  passing  along  a  dangerous  road 
which  ran  beside  the  summit  of  a  steep  cliff.  As  I  rode 
cautiously  along,  my  horse  started  at  sight  of  something 
lying  in  the  road.  I  dismounted  to  see  what  it  was,  and 
found  my  enemy  lying  fast  asleep  on  the  very  edge  of  the 
cliff.  The  least  movement  in  his  sleep,  and  he  must  have 
rolled  over,  and  would  have  been  dashed  to  pieces  on  the 
rocks  below.  His  life  was  in  my  hands.  I  drew  him  away 
from  the  edge,  and  then  woke  him,  and  told  him  to  go  on 
his  way  in  peace." 

9.  Then  the  old  Persian  cried  out,  in  a  transport  of  joy, 
"  Dear  son,  the  diamond  is  thine ;  for  it  is  a  noble  and  a 
godlike  thing  to  succor  an  enemy,  and  to  reward  evil  with 
good." 

EXERCISE. 

1.  A  Persian  resolved  to  divide  his  goods  among  his  sons, 

2.  He  reserved  a  small  portion  to  himself. 

3.  The  sons  departed,  and  traveled  three  months. 

4.  I  might  have  enriched  myself  without  fear  of  detection. 

5.  I  gave  back  the  parcel  exactly  as  I  had  received  it. 

6.  I  immediately  dismounted  from  my  horse. 

7.  The  people  of  the  village  where  this  occurred  can  bear  witness. 


128  THE  FIFTH   EEADEK. 

XLVII.  —  THE  MILLER  OF  THE  DEE, 

i. 

THERE  dwelt  a  miller  hale  and  bold 
Beside  the  river  Dee  ; 
He  worked  and  sang  from  morn  till  night : 

No  lark  more  blithe  than  he. 
And  this  the  burden  of  his  song 

Forever  used  to  be,  — 
"  I  envy  nobody,  no,  not  I, 
And  nobody  envies  me  ! " 

ii. 
"  Thou  'rt  wrong,  my  friend,"  said  old  King  Hal, 

"  Thou  'rt  wrong  as  wrong  can  be  ; 
For  could  my  heart  be  light  as  thine, 

I  'd  gladly  change  with  thee. 
And  tell  me  now,  what  makes  thee  sing 

With  voice  so  loud  and  free, 
While  I  am  sad,  though  I  am  king, 

Beside  the  river  Dee  % " 

in. 
The  miller  smiled,  and  doffed  his  cap. 

"  I  earn  my  bread,"  quoth  he, 
"  I  love  my  wife,  I  love  my  friend, 

I  love  my  children  three ; 
I  owe  no  penny  I  cannot  pay  ; 

I  thank  the  river  Dee, 
That  turns  the  mill  and  grinds  the  corn 

To  feed  my  babes  and  me." 

IV. 

"Good  friend,"  said  Hal,  and  sighed  the  while, 

"  Farewell,  and  happy  be  ; 
But  say  no  more,  if  thou  'dst  be  true, 

That  no  man  envies  thee  : 
Thy  mealy  cap  is  worth  my  crown, 

Thy  mill  my  kingdom's  fee ; 

Such  men  as  thou  are  England's  boast, 

0  miller  of  the  Dee  !  " 

0.  Mackay, 


THE   BROOK.  1^9 

XL VIII.  —  THE  BROOK. 

ASHEPHEBD  by  the  side  of  a  brook  complainingly 
sang,  in  his  grief,  of  his  sad  and  irrep'arable  loss. 
His  pet  lamb  had  lately  been  drowned  in  the  neighboring 
river.  Having  heard  the  shepherd,  the  brook  thus  began 
to  murmur  indignantly :  — 

2.  "  Insatiable  river  !  how  would  it  be  if  thy  depths,  like 
mine,  were  clearly  visible  to  all  eyes,  and  every  one  could  see, 
in  thy  most  secret  recesses,  all  the  victims  which  thou  hast  so 
greedily  swallowed  up  ?  I  think  that  thou  wouldst  dive  into 
the  earth  for  shame,  and  hide  thyself  in  its  dark  abysses. 

3.  "  Methinks  that,  if  fate  gave  me  such  copious  waters,  I 
should  become  an  ornament  to  Xature,  and  would  never 
hurt  even  so  much  as  a  chicken.  How  cautiously  should 
my  waves  roll  past  every  bush,  every  cottage  !  My  shores 
would  only  bless  me,  and  I  should  bring  fresh  life  to  the 
adjacent  valleys  and  meadows,  without  robbing  them  of  so 
much  as  even  a  single  leaflet.  Then,  in  a  word,  I  should 
perform  my  journey  in  a  kindly  spirit,  nowhere  causing 
misfortune  or  sorrow,  and  my  waters  should  flow  right 
down  to  the  sea  as  pure  as  silver." 

4.  So  spake  the  brook,  and  so  it  really  meant.  But  what 
happened  ?  A  week  had  not  gone  by  before  a  heavy  rain- 
cloud  burst  upon  a  neighboring  hill.  In  its  affluence  of 
waters  the  brook  suddenly  rivaled  the  river.  But,  alas  ! 
what  has  become  of  the  brook's  tranquillity  ?  The  brook 
overflows  its  banks  with  turbid  waters.  It  seethes ;  it 
roars  ;  it  flings  about  masses  of  soiled  foam.  It  overthrows 
ancestral  oaks  ;  their  crashing  may  be  heard  afar.  And,  at 
last,  that  very  shepherd,  on  whose  account  it  lately  up- 
braided the  river  with  such  a  flow  of  eloquence,  perished 
in  it  with  all  his  flock,  and  of  his  cottage  not  even  a  trace- 
was  left  behind. 

5.  How  many  brooks  are  there  which  flow  along  so 
smoothly,  so  peacefully,  and  murmur  so  sweetly  to  the 
heart,  only  because  they  have  so  little  water  in  them ! 

Krilof. 


130  THE   FIFTH   READER. 


XLIX.  —  THE  RETORT. 

i. 

ONE  day,  a  rich  man,  flushed  with  pride  and  wine, 
Sitting  with  guests  at  table,  all  quite  merry, 
Conceived  it  would  be  vastly  fine 
To  crack  a  joke  upon  his  secretary. 

ii. 
"  Young  man,"  said  he,  "  by  what  art,  craft,  or  trade 

Did  your  good  father  earn  his  livelihood  ]  " 
"  He  was  a  saddler,  sir,"  the  young  man  said  ; 

u  And  in  his  line  was  always  reckoned  good." 

in. 
"  A  saddler,  eh  ?  and  had  you  stuffed  with  Greek, 

Instead  of  teaching  you  like  him  to  do  ! 
And  pray,  sir,  why  did  not  your  father  make 

A  saddler,  too,  of  you  *i " 
At  this  each  flatterer,  as  in  duty  bound, 

The  joke  applauded,  and  the  laugh  went  round. 

IV. 

At  length  the  secretary,  bowing  low, 

Said,  (craving  pardon  if  too  free  he  made,) 

"  Sir,  by  your  leave,  I  fain  would  know 
Your  father's  trade." 

v. 

"  My  father's  trade  ?     Why,  sir,  but  that 's  too  bad  ! 

My  father's  trade  ]     Why,  blockhead,  art  thou  mad  1 
My  father,  sir,  was  never  brought  so  low  : 

He  was  a  gentleman,  I  'd  have  you  know." 

VI. 

"  Indeed  !  excuse  the  liberty  I  take  ; 

But  if  your  story  's  true, 
How  happened  it  your  father  did  not  make 

A  gentleman  of  you  %  " 


USING   THE   EYES.  131 

L.  —  USING  THE  EYES. 

THE  difference  between  men  consists,  in  great  meas- 
ure, in  the  intelligence  of  their  observation.  The 
Russian  proverb  says  of  the  non-observant  man,  "  He 
goes  through  the  forest  and  sees  no  firewood."  "  The 
wise  man's  eyes  are  in  his  head,"  says  Solomon;  "but 
the  fool  walketh  in  darkness." 

2.  "  Sir,"  said  Johnson,  on  one  occasion,  to  a  fine  gen- 
tleman, just  returned  from  Italy,  "some  men  will  learn 
more  in  the  Hampstead  stage  than  others  in  the  tour  of 
Europe."     It  is  the  mind  that  sees  as  well  as  the  eye. 

3.  Many,  before  Galileo,  had  seen  a  suspended  weight 
swing  before  their  eyes  with  a  measured  beat ;  but  he  was 
the  first  to  detect  the  value  of  the  fact.  One  of  the  vergers, 
in  the  cathedral  at  Pisa,  after  replenishing  with  oil  a  lamp 
which  swung  from  the  roof,  left  it  swinging  to  and  fro; 
and  Galileo,  then  a  youth  of  only  eighteen,  noting  it  at- 
tentively, conceived  the  idea  of  applying  it  to  the  measure- 
ment of  time, 

4.  Fifty  years  of  study  and  labor,  however,  elapsed  be- 
fore he  completed  the  invention  of  his  pendulum,  —  an 
invention  the  importance  of  which,  in  the  measurement 
of  time,  and  in  astronomical  calculations,  can  scarcely  be 
overvalued. 

5.  While  Captain  (afterwards  Sir  Samuel)  Brown  was 
occupied  in  studying  the  construction  of  bridges,  with  the 
view  of  contriving  one  of  a  cheap  description  to  be  thrown 
across  the  Tweed,  near  which  he  lived,  he  was  walking 
in  his  garden  one  dewy  morning,  when  he  saw  a  tiny 
spider's-net  suspended  across  his  path.  The  idea  im- 
mediately occurred  to  him,  that  a  bridge  of  iron  ropes 
or  chains  might  be  constructed  in  like  manner,  and  the 
result  was  the  invention  of  his  Suspension  Bridge. 

6.  So  James  Watt,  when  consulted  about  the  mode  of 
carrying  water  by  pipes  under  the  Clyde,  along  the  unequal 
bed  of  the  river,  turned  his  attention,  one  day,  to  the  shell 


132  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

of  a  lobster  presented  at  table  ;  and  from  that  model  he  in- 
vented an  iron  tube,  which,  when  laid  down,  was  found 
effectually  to  answer  the  purpose. 

7.  Brunei  took  his  first  lessons  in  forming  the  Thames 
Tunnel  from  the  tiny  shipworm.  He  saw  how  the  little 
creature  perforated  the  wood  with  its  well-armed  head, 
first  in  one  direction  and  then  in  another,  till  the  arch- 
way was  complete,  and  then  daubed  over  the  roof  ancj 
sides  with  a  kind  of  varnish  ;  and  by  copying  this  work 
exactly  on  a  large  scale,  he  was  at  length  enabled  to  ac- 
complish- his  great  engineering  work. 

8.  So  trifling  a  matter  as  the  sight  of  sea-weed  floating 
past  his  ship  enabled  Columbus  to  quell  the  mutiny  which 
arose  amongst  his  sailors  at  not  discovering  land,  and  to 
assure  them  that  the  eagerly  sought  New  World  was  not 
far  off. 

9.  It  is  the  close  observation  of  little  things  which  is 
the  secret  of  success  in  business,  in  art,  in  science,  and  in 
every  pursuit  in  life.  Though  many  of  these  facts  and 
observations  seemed  in  the  first  instance  to  have  but  slight 
significance,  they  are  all  found  to  have  their  eventual  uses; 
and  to  fit  into  their  proper  places.  Samuel  Smiles. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  The  difference  between  men  consists  in  the  intelligence  of  their 

observation.     [Clearness  of  seeing  things.] 

2.  The  non-observant  man  goes  through  the  forest  and  sees  no  fire- 

wood. 

3.  One  of  the  vergers  in  the  cathedral  replenished  a  lamp  with  oiL 

[Petty  officers ;  sextons.] 

4.  Galileo,  a  youth  of  eighteen,  noted  it  attentively. 

5.  Fifty  years  elapsed  before  he  completed  the  invention. 

6.  Captain  Brown  saw  a  tiny  spider  suspended  across  his  path. 

7.  Brunei  saw  how  the  shipworm  perforaied  the  wood. 

8.  Columbus  quelled  the  mutiny  among  his  sailors. 

9.  The  eagerly  sought  New  World  was  not  far  off. 

10.    These  things  .seemed  to  have  but  slight  significance. 


FITZ-JAMES  AND  RODERICK  DHU.  133 

LL  — FITZ- JAMES  AND  RODERICK  DHU. 

RODERICK.     Thy  name  and  purpose,  Saxon  !     Stand  ! 
F it z- James.  A  stranger. 

Rod.  What  dost  thou  require  % 

Fitz.  Best,  and  a  guide,  and  food,  and  fire. 
My  life  's  beset,  my  path  is  lost, 
The  gale  has  chilled  my  limbs  with  frost. 

Rod,  Art  thou  a  friend  to  Roderick  ] 

Fitz.  No  ! 

Rod.  Thou  darest  not  call  thyself  a  foe  1 

Fitz.  I  dare  !     To  him  and  all  the  band 
He  brings  to  aid  his  murderous  hand. 

Rod.  Bold  words  !     But  though  the  beast  of  game 
The  privilege  of  chase  may  claim, 
Though  space  and  law  the  stag  we  lend 
Ere  hound  we  slip  or  bow  we  bend, 
Who  ever  recked,  where,  how,  or  when 
The  prowling  fox  was  trapped  or  slain  ] 
Thus  treacherous  scouts  —  yet  sure  they  lie 
Who  say  thou  canrst  a  secret  spy  ! 

Fitz.  They  do,  by  Heaven  !     Come  Roderick  Dhu, 
And  of  his  clan  the  boldest  two, 
And  let  me  but  till  morning  rest, 
I  write  the  falsehood  on  their  crest. 

Rod.   If  by  the  blaze  I  mark  aright, 
Thou  bearest  the  belt  and  spurs  of  knight. 

Fitz.  Then  by  these  tokens  mayst  thou  know 
Each  proud  oppressor's  mortal  foe. 

Rod.  Enough,  enough  !     Sit  down  and  share 
A  soldier's  couch,  a  soldier's  fare. 

Walter  Scott. 

EXERCISE. 

Substitute  the  following  words  in  the  above  piece  where  they 

will  make  sense. 

1.  Intention  —  Halt,         6.  Wind  —  severe  cold.      11.  Perfidious  spies. 

2.  A  person  not  known.    7.  An  enemy.  12.  Tribe  —  bravest. 

3.  Do  you  need?  8.  Help  —  blood-thirsty.  13.  Lie  —  helmet, 

4.  Repose  —  pilot.  9.  Deer — dog.  14.  Fire-light — sea. 

5.  Besieged  —  way.        10.  Cared  —  caught.  15.  Signs  —  deadly. 


134  the  fifth  reader. 

JjII.  —  A  gigantic  iceberg. 

AT  twelve  o'clock  we  went  below,  and  had  just  got 
through  dinner,  when  the  cook  put  his  head  down 
che  scuttle  and  told  us  to  come  on  deck  and  see  the  finest 
sight  that  we  had  ever  seen.  "  Where  away,  cook  ?  "  asked 
the  first  man  who  was  up.     "  On  the  larboard  bow." 

2.  And  there  lay,  floating  in  the  ocean,  several  miles  off, 
an  immense  irregular  mass,  its  top  and  points  covered  with 
snow,  and  its  center  of  a  deep  indigo  color.  This  was  an 
iceberg,  and  of  the  largest  size,  as  one  of  our  men  said  who 
had  been  in  the  Northern  Ocean. 

3.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  the  sea  in  every  direc- 
tion was  of  a  deep  blue  color,  the  waves  running  high  and 
fresh,  and  sparkling  in  the  light,  and  in  the  midst  lay  this 
immense  mountain-island,  its  cavities  and  valleys  thrown 
into  deep  shade,  and  its  points  and  pinnacles  glittering  in 
the  sun.  All  hands  were  soon  on  deck  looking  at  it,  and 
admiring  in  various  ways  its  beauty  and  grandeur. 

4.  But  no  description  can  give  any  idea  of  the  strange- 
ness, splendor,  and,  really,  the  sublimity  of  the  sight.  Its 
great  size,  —  for  it  must  have  been  two  or  three  miles  in  cir- 
cumference, and  several  hundred  feet  in  height,  —  its  slow 
motion  as  its  base  rose  and  sank  in  the  water,  and  its  high 
points  nodded  against  the  clouds ;  the  dashing  of  the 
waves  upon  it,  which,  breaking  high  with  foam,  lined  its 
base  with  a  white  crust ;  and  the  thundering  sound  of  the 
crackling  of  the  mass,  and  the  breaking  and  tumbling  down 
of  huge  pieces ;  together  with  its  nearness  and  approach, 
which  added  a  slight  element  of  fear,  —  all  combined  to 
give  it  the  character  of  true  sublimity. 

5.  The  main  body  of  the  mass  was,  as  I  have  said,  of  an 
indigo  color,  its  base  crusted  with  frozen  foam  ;  and  as  it 
grew  thin  and  transparent  towards  the  edges  and  top,  its 
color  shaded  off  from  a  deep  blue  to  the  whiteness  of  snow. 
It  seemed  to  be  drifting  slowly  towards  the  north,  so  that 
we  kept  away  and  avoided  it.     It  was  in  sight  all  the  after- 


A   GIGANTIC   ICEBERG.  135 

noon,  and  when  we  got  to  leeward  of  it,  the  wind  died 
away,  so  that  we  lay  to  quite  near  it  for  a  greater  part  of 
the  night. 

6.  Unfortunately  there  was  no  moon  ;  but  it  was  a  clear 
night,  and  we  could  plainly  mark  the  long,  regular  heaving 
of  the  stupendous  mass,  as  its  edges  moved  slowly  against 
the  stars.  Several  times  in  our  watch  loud  cracks  were 
heard,  which  sounded  as  though  they  must  have  run 
through  the  whole  length  of  the  iceberg,  and  several  pieces 
fell  dowrn  with  a  thundering  crash,  plunging  heavily  into 
the  sea.  Towards  morning  a  strong  breeze  sprang  up,  and 
we  filled  away  and  left  it  astern,  and  at  daylight  it  was  out 
of  sight, 

7.  No  pencil  has  ever  yet  given  anything  like  the  true 
effect  of  an  iceberg.  In  a  picture  they  are  huge,  uncouth 
masses  stuck  in  the  sea ;  while  their  chief  beauty  and 
grandeur  —  their  slow,  stately  motion,  the  whirling  of  the 
snow  about  their  summits,  and  the  fearful  groaning  and 
crackling  of  their  parts  —  the  picture  cannot  give.  This  is 
the  large  iceberg ;  while  the  small  and  distant  islands,  float- 
ing on  the  smooth  sea,  in  the  light  of  a  clear  day,  look  like 
little  floating  fairy  isles  of  sapphire.  r.  h.  Dana. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  The  iceberg  was  on  the  larboard  bow.   [Left-hand  side,  forward.] 

2.  It  was  an  immense  irregular  mass. 

3.  Its  cavities  and  valleys  were  thrown  into  deep  shade. 

4.  The  pinnacles  glittered  in  the  sun. 

5.  It  must  have  been  two  or  three  miles  in  circumference. 

6.  Huge  pieces  broke  and  tumbled  down. 

7.  It  seemed  to  be  drifting  slowly  towards  the  north. 

8.  We  lay  to  quite  near  it  a  greater  part  of  the  night.     [Stopped.] 

9.  Unfortunately  there  was  no  moon;  but  it  was  a  clear  night. 

10.  We  could  plainly  mark  the  long,  regular  heaving  of  the  stupen- 

dous mass. 

11.  A  strong  breeze  sprung  up,  and  we  left  the  iceberg  astern. 

12.  They  looked  like  little  floating  fairy  isles  of  sapphire.      [Blue 

crystal.] 


136  THE  FIFTH  BEADEB. 

Ull—HYMJf  OF  THE  MOUNTAINEERS. 

ALL. 

FOB,  the  strength  of  the  hills  we  bless  Thee,  our  God,  our 
fathers'  God ! 

FIRST  VOICE. 

Thou  hast  made   Thy  children   mighty,  by  the  touch  of  the 

mountain  sod. 
Thou  hast  fixed  our  ark  of  refuge  where  the  spoiler's  foot  ne'er 

trod ; 

ALL. 

For  the  strength  of  the  hills  we  bless  Thee,  our  God,  our  fathers' 
God! 

SECOND   VOICE. 

We  are  watchers  of  a  beacon  whose  light  must  never  die ; 
We  are  guardians  of  an  altar  midst  the  silence  of  the  sky ; 
The  rocks  yield  founts  of  courage,  struck  forth  as  by  Thy  rod ; 

ALL. 

For  the  strength  of  the  hills  we  bless  Thee,  our  God,  our  fathers' 
God! 

THIRD   VOICE. 

For  the  dark-resounding  caverns,  where  Thy  still  small  voice  is 

heard ; 
For  the  strong  pines  of  the   forests,  that  by  Thy  breath   are 

stirred ; 
For  the  storms,  on  whose  free  pinions  Thy  spirit  walks  abroad ; 

ALL. 

For  the  strength  of  the  hills  we  bless  Thee,  our  God,  our  fathers' 
God! 

FOURTH   VOICE. 

The  royal  eagle  darteth  on  his  quarry  from  the  heights, 
And  the  stag  that  knows  no  master  seeks  there  his  wild  de- 
lights ; 
But  we,  for  Thy  communion,  have  sought  the  mountain  sod. 

ALL. 

For  the  strength  of  the  nills  we  bless  Thee,  our  God,  our  fathers' 
God! 


THE  AMERICAN   INDIAtf.  137 

FIFTH  VOICE. 

The  banner  of  the  chieftain  far,  far  below  ns  waves ; 

The  war-horse  of  the  spearman  cannot  reach  our  lofty  caves, 

Thy  dark  clouds  wrap  the  threshold  of  Freedom's  last  abode ; 

ALL. 

For  the  strength  of  the  hills  we  bless  Thee,  our  God,  our  fathers5 
God! 

SIXTH   VOICE. 

For  the  shadow  of  Thy  presence  round  our  camp  of  rock  out- 

spread  ; 
For  the  stern  defiles  of  battle,  bearing  record  of  our  dead ; 
For  the  snows  and  for  the  torrents,  for  the  free  heart's  burial 

sod, 

ALL. 

For  the   strength   of  the    hills   we    bless   Thee,  our    God,   our 

fathers'  God ! 

Mrs,  Remans. 


JAY,  — THE  AMERICAN  INDIAN 

"A  "TOT  many  generations  ago,  where  you.  now  sit,  circled 
_|_M  with  all  that  exalts  and  embellishes  civilized  life,  the 
rank  thistle  nodded  in  the  wind,  and  the  wild  fox  dug  his 
hole  unscared.  Here  lived  and  loved  another  race  of  beings. 
Beneath  the  same  sun  that  rolls  over  your  heads,  the  Indian 
hunter  pursued  the  panting  deer ;  gazing  on  the  same  moon 
that  smiles  for  you,  the  Indian  lover  wooed  his  dusky  mate. 

2.  Here  the  wigwam  blaze  beamed  on  the  tender  and 
helpless,  the  council-fire  glared  on  the  wise  and  daring. 
Now  they  dipped  their  noble  limbs  in  your  sedgy  lakes, 
and  now  they  paddled  the  light  canoe  along  your  rocky 
shores.  Here  they  warred  ;  the  echoing  whoop,  the  bloody 
grapple,  the  defying  death-song,  all  were  here  ;  and  when 
the  tiger  strife  was  over,  here  curled  the  smoke  of  peace. 

3.  Here,  too,  they  worshiped ;  and  from  many  a  dark 
bosom  went  up  a  pure  prayer  to  the  Great  Spirit.  He 
had  not  written  his  laws  for  them  on  tables  of  stone,  but 


138  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

he  had  traced  them  on  the  tables  of  their  hearts.  The 
poor  child  of  nature  knew  not  the  God  of  revelation,  but 
the  God  of  the  universe  he  acknowledged  in  everything 
around. 

4.  He  beheld  him  in  the  star  that  sunk  in  beauty  behind 
his  lonely  dwelling ;  in  the  sacred  orb  that  flamed  on  him 
from  his  midday  throne  ;  in  the  flower  that  snapped  in  the 
morning  breeze ;  in  the  lofty  pine  that  defied  a  thousand 
whirlwinds ;  in  the  timid  warbler,  that  never  left  its  na- 
tive grove  ;  in  the  fearless  eagle,  whose  untired  pinion  was 
wet  in  clouds  ;  in  the  worm  that  crawled  at  his  feet ;  and 
in  his  own  matchless  form,  glowing  with  a  spark  of  that 
light  to  whose  mysterious  source  he  bent,  in  humble 
though  blind  adoration. 

5.  And  all  this  has  passed  away.  Across  the  ocean  came 
a  pilgrim  bark,  bearing  the  seeds  of  life  and  death.  The 
former  were  sown  for  you ;  the  latter  sprang  up  in  the  path 
of  the  simple  native.  Two  hundred  years  have  changed  the 
character  of  a  great  continent,  and  blotted  forever  from  its 
face  a  whole  peculiar  people.  Art  has  usurped  the  bowers 
of  nature,  and  the  children  of  education  have  been  too 
powerful  for  the  tribes  of  the  ignorant. 

6.  Here  and  there  a  stricken  few  remain ;  but  how 
unlike  their  bold,  untamed,  untamable  progenitors !  The 
Indian  of  falcon  glance  and  lion  bearing  —  the  theme  of  the 
touching  ballad,  the  hero  of  the  pathetic  tale  —  is  gone  !  and 
his  degraded  offspring  crawl  upon  the  soil  where  he  walked 
in  majesty,  to  remind  us  how  miserable  is  man  when  the 

foot  of  the  Conqueror  is  On  his  neck.  Clmrles  Sprague. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  You  are  circled  with  all  that  exalts  and  embellishes  civilized  life. 

2.  The  thistle  nodded  in  the  wind,  and  the  fox  dug  his  hole  unscared 

3.  The  Indian  hunter  pursued  the  panting  deer. 

4.  The  ivigwam  blaze  beamed  on  the  tender  and  helpless. 

5.  Here  and  there  a  stricken  few  remain. 

6.  How  unlike  their  bold,  untamed  progenitors.     [Ancestors.] 


FIDELITY.  139 

LV.  —  FIDELITY. 

i. 

A  BARKING  sound  the  shepherd  hears. 
A  cry  as  of  a  dog  or  fox  ;  — 
He  halts,  and  searches  with  his  eyes 

Among  the  scattered  rocks  : 
And  now,  at  distance,  can  discern 
A  stirring  in  a  brake  of  fern, 
From  which  immediately  leaps  out 
A  dog,  and,  yelping,  runs  about. 

II. 

The  dog  is  not  of  mountain  breed  ; 

Its  motions,  too,  are  wild  and  shy  ; 
With  something  —  as  the  shepherd  thinks  - 

Unusual  in  its  cry  : 
Nor  is  there  any  one  in  sight, 
All  round,  in  hollow  or  on  height ; 
Nor  shout  nor  whistle  strikes  his  ear ;  — 
What  is  the  creature  doing  here  % 

in. 
It  was  a  cove,  a  huge  recess, 

That  keeps,  till  June,  December's  snow. 
A  lofty  precipice  in  front, 

A  silent  tarn  below  ! 
Far  in  the  bosom  of  Helvellyn, 
Remote  from  public  road  or  dwelling, 
Pathway  or  cultivated  land, 
From  trace  of  human  foot  or  hand. 

IV. 

There,  sometimes,  does  a  leaping  fish 

Send  through  the  tarn  a  lonely  cheer ; 
The  crags  repeat  the  raven's  croak, 

In  symphony  austere. 
Thither  the  rainbow  comes  ;  the  cloud  t 
And  mists,  that  spread  the  flying  shroud ; 
And  sunbeams  ;  and  the  sounding  blast, 
That,  if  it  could,  would  hurry  past  ;  — 
But  that  enormous  barrier  binds  it  fast 


140  THE  FIFTH  HEADER. 

v. 

Not  knowing  what  to  think,  awhile 

The  shepherd  stood  ;  then  makes  his  way 
Towards  the  dog,  o'er  rocks  and  stones, 

As  quickly  as  he  may  ; 
Nor  far  had  gone,  before  he  found 
A  human  skeleton  on  the  ground,  — 
Sad  sight  !  the  shepherd,  with  a  sigh, 
Looks  round,  to  learn  the  history. 

VI.. 

From  those  abrupt  and  perilous  rocks 

The  man  had  fallen,  —  that  place  of  fear  !  — 
At  length,  upon  the  shepherd's  mind 

It  breaks,  and  all  is  clear. 
He  instantly  recalled  the  name, 
And  who  he  was,  and  whence  he  came  \ 
Remembered,  too,  the  very  day 
On  which  the  traveler  passed  this  way. 

VII. 

But  hear  a  wonder  now,  for  sake 
Of  which  this  mournful  tale  I  tell ! 

A  lasting  monument  of  words 
This  wonder  merits  well  :  — 

The  dog,  which  still  was  hovering  nigh, 

Repeating  the  same  timid  cry,  — 

This  dog  had  been,  through  three  months'  space, 

A  dweller  in  that  savage  place. 

VIII. 

Yes,  proof  was  plain,  that,  since  the  day 
On  which  the  traveler  thus  had  died, 
The  dog  had  watched  about  the  spot, 

Or  by  his  master's  side  : 
How  nourished  here,  through  such  long  time, 
lie  knows  who  gave  that  love  sublime, 
And  gave  that  strength  of  feeling,  great 
Above  all  human  estimate. 

Wordsworth. 


THE   CRUISE  OF   THE   DOLPHIN.  141 

LVL—  THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  DOLPHIN. 

IT  was  a  proud  moment  when  I  stood  on  the  wharf  with 
my  three  partners,  inspecting  the  Dolphin,  moored  at 
the  foot  of  a  very  slippery  flight  of  steps.  She  was  painted 
white,  with  a  green  stripe  outside ;  and  on  the  stern  a  yel- 
low dolphin,  with  its  scarlet  mouth  wide  open,  stared  with 
a  surprised  expression  at  its  own  reflection  in  the  water. 
The  boat  was  ours,  — just  bought  at  a  great  bargain. 

2.  Xot  long  after  the  purchase  of  the  boat  we  planned 
an  excursion  to  Sandpeep  Island,  the  last  of  the  islands  in 
the  harbor.  We  proposed  to  start  early  in  the  morning, 
and  return  with  the  tide  in  the  moonlight. 

3.  We  were  up  before  sunrise,  in  order  to  take  advantage 
of  the  flood  tide,  which  waits  for  no  man.  Our  prepara- 
tions for  the  cruise  were  made  the  previous  evening.  In 
the  way  of  eatables  and  drinkables,  we  had  stored  in  the 
stern  of  the  Dolphin  a  generous  bag  of  hard-tack  (for  the 
chowder),  a  piece  of  pork  to  fry  the  dinners  in,  three  gigan- 
tic apple-pies,  half  a  dozen  lemons,  and  a  keg  of  spring- 
water,  —  the  last-named  article  we  slung  over  the  side  to 
keep  it  cool,  as  soon  as  we  got  under  way. 

4.  The  crockery  and  the  bricks  for  our  camp-stove  we 
placed  in  the  bows  with  the  groceries,  which  included 
sugar,  pepper,  salt,  and  a  bottle  of  pickles.  Phil  Adams 
contributed  to  the  outfit  a  small  tent  of  unbleached  cotton 
cloth,  under  which  we  intended  to  take  our  nooning. 

5.  Charley  Marden,  whose  father  had  promised  to  cane 
him  if  he  ever  stepped  foot  on  sail  or  row  boat,  came  down 
to  the  wharf  in  a  sour-grape  humor,  to  see  us  off.  Nothing 
would  tempt  him  to  go  out  on  the  river  in  such  a  crazy 
clam-shell  of  a  boat.  He  pretended  that  he  did  not  expect 
to  behold  us  alive  again,  and  tried  to  throw  a  wet  blanket 
over  the  expedition. 

6.  "  Guess  you  '11  have  a  squally  time  of  it,"  said  Char- 
ley, casting  off  the  painter. 

7.  "  Bosh !"  muttered  Phil  Adams,  sticking  the  boat-hook 


142    -  THE  FIFTH  BEADER. 

into  the  string-piece  of  the  wharf,  and  sending  the  Dolphin 
half  a  dozen  yards  towards  the  current. 

8.  How  calm  and  lovely  the  river  was !  Not  a  ripple 
stirred  on  the  glassy  surface,  broken  only  by  the  sharp  cut- 
water of  our  tiny  craft.  The  sun,  as  round  and  red  as  an 
August  moon,  was  by  this  time  peering  above  the  wTater- 
line. 

9.  The  town  had  drifted  behind  us,  and  we  wTere  enter- 
ing among  the  group  of  islands.  Sometimes  we  could 
almost  touch  with  our  boat-hook  the  shelving  banks  on 
either  side.  As  we  neared  the  mouth  of  the  harbor,  a  lit- 
tle breeze  now  and  then  wTrinkled  the  blue  water,  shook 
the  spangles  from  the  foliage,  and  gently  lifted  the  spiral 
mist-wreaths  that  still  clung  along-shore. 

10.  The  measured  dip  of  our  oars,  and  the  drowsy  twit- 
terings of  the  birds,  seemed  to  mingle  with,  rather  than 
break,  the  enchanted  silence  that  reigned  about  us.  The 
scent  of  the  new  clover  comes  back  to  me  now,  as  I  recall 
that  delicious  morning  when  we  floated  away  in  a  fairy 
boat  down  a  river,  like  a  dream. 

11.  The  sun  was  well  up  when  the  nose  of  the  Dolphin 
nestled  against  the  snow-white  bosom  of  Sandpeep  Island. 
This  island  was  the  last  of  the  cluster,  one  side  of  it  being 
washed  by  the  sea. 

12.  It  took  us  an  hour  or  two  to  transport  our  stores  to 
the  spot  selected  for  the  encampment.  Having  pitched 
our  tent,  using  the  five  oars  to  support  the  canvas,  we  got 
out  our  lines,  and  went  down  the  rocks  seaward  to  fish. 

13.  It  was  early  for  cunners,  but  wTe  were  lucky  enough 
to  catch  as  nice  a  mess  as  ever  you  saw.  A  cod  for  the 
chowder  was  not  so  easily  secured.  At  last  Binny  Wal- 
lace hauled  in  a  plump  little  fellow,  crusted  all  over  with 
flaky  silver. 

14.  To  skin  the  fish,  build  our  fireplace,  and  cook  the 
chowder  kept  us  busy  the  next  two  hours.  The  fresh  air 
and  the  exercise  had  given  us  the  appetites  of  wolves,  and 
we  were  about  famished  by  the  time  the  savory  mixture 
was  ready  for  our  clam-shell  saucers. 


THE  CRUISE   OF  THE    DOLPHIN. 


143 


15.  How  happy  we  were,  we  four,  sitting  cross-legged  in 
the  crisp  salt  grass,  with  the  invigorating  sea-breeze  blow- 
ing gratefully  through  our  hair  !  What  a  joyous  tiling  was 
life,  and  how  far  off  seemed  death,  —  death,  that  lurks  in 
all  pleasant  places,  and  was  so  near ! 


144        *  THE  FIFTH   HEADER. 

16.  The  wind  had  freshened  by  this,  and  we  found  it 
comfortable  to  put  on  the  jackets  which  had  been  thrown 
aside  in  the  heat  of  the  day.  We  strolled  along  the  beach, 
and  gathered  large  quantities  of  the  fairy-woven  Iceland 
moss,  which,  at  certain  seasons,  is  washed  to  these  shores ; 
then  we  played  at  ducks  and  drakes,  and  then,  the  sun 
being  sufficiently  low,  we  went  in  bathing. 

17.  Before  our  bath  was  ended,  a  slight  change  had  come 
over  the  sky  and  sea;  fleecy  white  clouds  scudded  here 
and  there,  and  a  muffled  moan  from  the  breakers  caught 
our  ears  from  time  to  time.  While  we  were  dressing,  a 
few  hurried  drops  of  rain  came  lisping  down,  and  we  ad- 
journed to  the  tent  to  await  the  passing  of  the  squall. 

18.  "  We  're  all  right,  anyhow,"  said  Phil  Adams.  "  It 
won't  be  much  of  a  blow,  and  we  11  be  as  snug  as  a  bug  in 
a  rug,  here  in  the  tent,  particularly  if  we  have  that  lemon- 
ade which  some  of  you  fellows  were  going  to  make." 

19.  By  an  oversight,  the  lemons  had  been  left  in  the 
boat.     Binny  Wallace  volunteered  to  go  for  them. 

20.  "Put  an  extra  stone  on  the  painter,  Binny,"  said 
Adams,  calling  after  him  ;  "it  would  be  awkward  to  have 
the  Dolphin  give  us  the  slip,  and  return  to  port  minus 
her  passengers." 

21.  "  That  it  would,"  answered  Binny,  scrambling  down 
the  rocks. 

22.  Binny  Wallace  had  been  absent  five  or  six  minutes, 
when  we  heard  him  calling  our  several  names  in  tones  that 
indicated  distress  or  surprise,  we  could  not  tell  which. 
Our  first  thought  was,  "  The  boat  has  broken  adrift ! " 

23.  We  sprang  to  our  feet  and  hastened  down  to  the 
beach.  On  turning  the  bluff  which  hid  the  mooring-place 
from  view,  we  found  the  conjecture  correct.  Not  only  was 
the  Dolphin  afloat,  but  poor  little  Binny  Wallace  was 
standing  in  the  bows  with  his  arms  stretched  helplessly 
towards  us  —  drifting  out  to  sea) 

24.  uHead  the  boat  in  shore !"  shouted  Phil  Adams. 
Wallace  ran  to  the   tiller;    but  the   slight   cockle-shell 


THE   CKUISE   OF   THE   DOLPHHS  145 

merely  swung  round  and  drifted  broadside  on.     0,  if  we 
had  but  left  a  single  scull  in  the  Dolphin  ! 

25  "  Can  you  swim  it?"  cried  Adams,  desperately, 
using  his  hand  as  a  speaking-trumpet,  for  the  distance 
between  the  boat  and  the  island  widened  momently. 

26.  Binny  Wallace  looked  down  at  the  sea,  which  was 
covered  with  white  caps,  and  made  a  despairing  gesture. 
He  knew,  and  we  knew,  that  the  stoutest  swimmer  could 
not  live  forty  seconds  in  those  angry  waters. 

27.  A  wild,  insane  light  came  into  Phil  Adams's  eyes, 
as  he  stood  knee-deep  in  the  boiling  surf,  and  for  an  in- 
stant I  think  he  meditated  plunging  into  the  ocean  after 
the  receding  boat, 

28.  The  sky  darkened,  and  an  ugly  look  stole  rapidly 
over  the  broken  surface  of  the  sea. 

29.  Binny  Wallace  half  rose  from  his  seat  in  the  stern, 
ttnd  waved  liis  hand  to  us  in  token  of  farewell.  In  spite 
of  the  distance,  increasing  every  instant,  we  could  see  his 
face  plainly.  The  anxious  expression  it  wore  at  first  had 
passed.  It  was  pale  and  meek  now  ;  and  I  love  to  think 
there  was  a  kind  of  halo  about  it,  like  that  which  the 
painters  place  around  the  forehead  of  a  saint.  So  he 
drifted  away.,  T.  B.  Aldrick 


EXERCISE. 

1.  We  stood  on  the  wharf  inspecting  the  Dolphin. 

2.  "  Guess  you  '11  have  a  squally  time  of  it,"  said  Charley; 

3.  He  cast  off  the  painter.     [Eope  used  to  fasten  the  boat. 

4.  How  calm  and  lovely  the  river  was ! 

5.  Not  a  ripple  stirred  on  the  glassy  surface. 

6.  The  sun  was  peering  above  the  water-line.  « 

7.  A  little  breeze  shook  the  spangles  from  the  foliage. 

8.  It  took  us  an  hour  or  two  to  transport  our  stores. 

9.  We  strolled  along  the  beach  and  gathered  moss. 

10.  We  sprang  to  our  feet  and  hastened  down  to  the  beach. 

11.  On  turning  the  bluff  we  found  the  conjecture  correct 

12.  I  think  he  meditated  plunging  into  the  ocean. 

Ail 


146  THE   FIFTH   KEADEK. 

LVI1.—  FARMER  JOHN. 

i. 

HOME  from  his  journey,  Farmer  John 
Arrived  this  morning,  safe  and  sound : 
His  black  coat  off,  and  his  old  clothes  on, 
"  Now  I  'm  myself,"  said  Farmer  John ; 
And  he  thinks,  "I'll  look  around." 
Up  leaps  the  dog  :  "  Get  down,  you  pup  ! 
Are  you  so  glad  you  would  eat  me  up  ? " 
The  old  cow  lows  at  the  gate,  to  greet  him ; 
The  horses  prick  up  their  ears,  to  meet  him. 
"  Well,  well,  old  Bay  ! 
Ha,  ha,  old  Gray  ! 
Do  you  get  good  feed  when  I  'm  away  ? 

ii. 
"  You  have  n't  a  rib,"  says  Farmer  John  ; 

"  The  cattle  are  looking  round  and  sleek ; 
The  colt  is  going  to  be  a  roan, 
And  a  beauty,  too  ;  how  he  has  grown  ! 

We  '11  wean  the  calf  in  a  week." 
Says  Farmer  John,  "  When  I  've  been  off, 
To  call  you  again  about  the  trough, 
And  watch  you  and  pet  you  while  you  drink 
Is  a  greater  comfort  than  you  can  think  ! " 
And  he  pats  old  Bay 
And  he  slaps  old  Gray ; 
"  Ah  !  this  is  the  comfort  of  going  away. 

in. 
"  For,  after  all,"  says  Farmer  John, 

"  The  best  of  a  journey  is  getting  home  : 
I  've  seen  great  sights,  but  I  would  not  give 
This  spot,  and  the  peaceful  life  I  live, 

For  all  their  Paris  and  Rome  ; 
These  hills  for  the  city's  stifled  air, 
And  big  hotels  and  bustle  and  glare ; 
Land  all  houses  and  roads  all  stones, 
That  deafen  your  ears  and  batter  your  bones  1 
Would  you,  old  Bay  ? 
Would  you,  old  Gray  1 
That 's  what  one  geia  by  going:  away. 


FARMER  JOHN.  147 

IV. 

"There  Money  is  king,"  says  Farmer  John, 

"And  Fashion  is  queen ;  and  it 's  mighty  queer 
To  see  how  sometimes,  while  the  man 
Is  raking  and  scraping  all  he  can, 

The  wife  spends,  every  year, 
Enough,  you  would  think,  for  a  score  of  wives, 
To  keep  them  in  luxury  all  their  lives  ! 
The  town  is  a  perfect  Babylon 
To  a  quiet  chap,"  says  Farmer  John. 

"  You  see,  old  Bay, 

You  see,  old  Gray, 
I  'm  wiser  than  when  I  went  away. 

v. 
"  I  've  found  out  this,"  says  Farmer  John, 

"  That  happiness  is  not  bought  and  sold, 
And  clutched  in  a  life  of  waste  and  hurry, 
In  nights  of  pleasure  and  days  of  worry  ; 

And  wealth  is  n't  all  in  gold, 
Mortgage  and  stocks,  and  ten  per  cent, 
But  in  simple  ways  and  sweet  content, 
Few  wants,  pure  hopes,  and  noble  ends, 
Some  land  to  till,  and  a  few  good  friends, 
•  .    Like  you,  old  Bay, 
And  you,  old  Gray,  — 
That 's  what  I  've  learned  by  going  away." 

VI. 

And  a  happy  man  is  Farmer  John,  — 

0,  a  rich  and  happy  man  is  he  ! 
He  sees  the  pease  and  pumpkins  growing, 
The  corn  in  tassel,  the  buckwheat  blowing, 

And  fruit  on  vine  and  tree ; 
The  large  kind  oxen  look  their  thanks, 
As  he  rubs  their  foreheads  and  strokes  their  flanks ; 
The  doves  light  round  him,  and  strut  and  coo  : 
Says  Farmer  John,  "  I  '11  take  you,  too,  — 
And  you,  old  Bay, 
And  you,  old  Gray, 
Next  time  I  travel  so  far  away." 

J.  T.  Trowbridge 


148  THE  FIFTH  EEADER. 

LVIII.—  THE  TOWN  PUMP. 

I  HOLD  high  office  in  the  town,  being  guardian  of  the 
best  treasure  it  has  ;  and  I  exhibit,  moreover,  an  ad- 
mirable example  to  the  other  officials,  by  the  cool  and 
downright  discharge  of  my  business,  and  the  constancy 
with  which  I  stand  to  my  post.  Summer  or  winter,  no- 
body seeks  me  in  vain ;  for  all  day  long  I  am  seen  at  the 
busiest  corner,  just  above  the  market,  stretching  out  my 
arms  to  rich  and  poor. 

2.  At  this  sultry  noontide,  I  am  cupbearer  to  the  parched 
populace,  for  whose  benefit  an  iron  goblet  is  chained  to  my 
waist.  To  all  and  sundry  I  cry  aloud,  at  the  very  top  of 
my  voice  :  "  Here  it  is,  gentlemen  !  here  is  the  good  liquor  ! 
here  is  the  unadulterated  ale  of  Father  Adam !  better  than 
brandy,  wine,  or  beer ;  here  it  is,  and  not  a  cent  to  pay. 
Walk  up,  walk  up,  gentlemen,  and  help  yourselves ! " 

3.  It  were  a  pity  if  all  this  outcry  should  draw  no  cus- 
tomers. Here  they  come.  "  A  hot  day,  gentlemen  !  Quaff 
and  away  again,  so  as  to  keep  yourselves  in  a  nice  cool 
sweat.  You,  my  friend  !  will  need  another  cupful  to  wash 
the  dust  out  of  your  throat,  if  it  be  as  thick  there  as  it  is 
on  your  cowhide  shoes.  I  see  that  you  have  trudged  half 
a  score  of  miles  to-day,  and,  like  a  wise  man,  have  passed 
by  the  taverns  and  stopped  at  the  running  brooks  and  bub- 
bling springs.  Drink,  and  make  room  for  that  other  fellow 
who  seeks  my  aid  to  quench  the  fever  of  last  night's  pota- 
tions, which  he  drained  from  no  cup  of  mine. 

4.  "  Welcome,  most  rubicund  sir !  You  and  I  have  been 
great  strangers  hitherto  !  But  mercy  on  you,  man  !  The 
vvater  almost  hisses  down  your  parched  throat.  Fill  again, 
and  tell  me,  on  the  word  of  an  honest  toper,  did  you 
ever,  in  tavern  or  dramshop,  spend  the  price  of  your  chil- 
dren's food  for  a  swig  half  so  delicious  ? 

5.  "  Who  next  ?  0  my  little  friend  !  you  are  just  let 
loose  from  school,  and  are  come  here  to  scrub  your  bloom- 
ing face,  and  drown  the  memory  of  certain  taps  of  the  rod 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  SPRING.  149 

by  a  draft  from  the  Town  Pump.  Take  it,  pure  as  the 
current  of  your  young  life ;  take  it,  and  may  your  heart 
and  tongue  never  be  scorched  with  a  fiercer  thirst  than 
now! 

6.  "  There,  my  dear  child  !  put  down  the  ci<p,  and  yield 
your  place  to  this  elderly  gentleman  who  treads,  so  gingerly 
over  the  paving-stones.  What !  he  limps  by,  without  so 
much  as  thanking  me,  as  if  my  hospitable  offices  were 
meant  only  for  people  who  have  no  wine-cellars 

7.  "  Well,  well,  sir  !  no  harm  done,  I  hope  ?  Go  f  draw 
the  cork,  tip  the  decanter ;  but  when  your  gre&t  toe  shall 
set  you  a  roaring,  it  will  be  no  affair  of  mine. 

8.  "This  thirsty  dog,  with  his  red  tongue  lolling  out. 

does  not  scorn  my  hospitality,  but  stands  on  his  hind  legs, 

and  laps  eagerly  out  of  the  trough.     See  how  lightly  he 

capers  away  again !     Jowler !  did  your  worship  ever  have 

the  gout  ? " 

Hawthorne. 


LIX.  —  THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  SPRING. 


CRY  Holiday  !  Holiday  !  let  us  be  gay, 
And  share  in  the  rapture  of  heaven  and  earth ; 
For  see  !  what  a  sunshiny  joy  they  display, 

To  welcome  the  Spring  on  the  day  of  her  birth ; 
While  the  elements,  gladly  outpouring  their  voice, 
Nature's  paean  proclaim,  and  in  chorus  rejoice  ! 

ii. 
Loud  carols  each  rill,  as  it  leaps  in  its  bed  ; 

The  wind  brings  us  music  and  balm  from  the  south. 
And  Earth  in  delight  calls  on  Echo  to  spread 

The  tidings  of  joy  vith  her  many-tongued  mouth  ; 
Over  sea,  over  shore,  over  mountain  and  plain, 
Far,  far  doth  she  trumpet  the  jubilee  strain 


L50  THE   FIFTH   READER, 

ill. 
Hark  !  hark  to  the  robin  !  its  magical  call 

Awakens  the  flowerets  that  slept  in  the  dells  ; 
The  snow-drop,  the  primrose,  the  hyacinth,  all 

Attune  at  the  summons  their  silvery  bells. 
Hush  !  ting-a-ring-ting  !  don't  you  hear  how  they  sing  1 
They  are  pealing  a  fairy-like  welcome  to  Spring. 

IV. 

The  love-thrilling  wood-birds  are  wild  with  delight ; 

Like  arrows  loud  whistling  the  swallows  flit  by ; 
The  rapturous  lark,  as  he  soars  out  of  sight, 

Sends  a  flood  of  rich  melody  down  from  the  sky. 
In  the  air  that  they  quaff,  all  the  feathery  throng 
Taste  the  spirit  of  Spring,  that  outbursts  in  a  song. 

v. 

To  me  the  same  vernal  whisperings  breathe, 
In  all  that  I  scent,  that  I  hear,  that  I  meet 

Without  and  within  me,  above  and  beneath  : 
Every  sense  is  imbued  with  a  prophecy  sweet 

Of  the  pomp  and  the  pleasantness  Earth  shall  assume 

When  adorned,  like  a  bride,  in  her  flowery  bloom. 

VI. 

In  this  transport  of  nature  each  feeling  takes  part ; 

I  am  thrilling  with  gratitude,  reverence,  joy  ; 
A  new  spring  of  youth  seems  to  gush  from  my  heart, 

And  the  man  is  transformed  all  at  once  to  a  boy. 
0,  let  me  run  wild,  as  in  earlier  years  ! 
If  my  joy  be  withheld  I  shall  burst  into  tears. 

Horace  Smith 


EXERCISE. 

1.  Let  us  share  in  the  rapture  of  heaven  and  earth. 

2.  The  elements  sing*  Nature's  pcean.     [Song  of  rejoicing.  1 

3.  Loud  carols  each  rill  as  it  leaps  in  its  bed. 

4.  The  rapturous  lark  sends  a  flood  of  rich  melody  down. 

5.  All  the  feathery  throng  taste  the  spirit  of  Spring. 

6.  Earth  shall  assume  pomp  and  pleasantness. 


THE   TEA-ROSE.  151 


LX.  —  THE  TEA  ROSE. 


KATE.  Cousin,  I  have  been  thinking  what  you  are 
to  do  with  your  pet  rose  when  you  go  to  New  York 
You  know  it  would  be  a  sad  pity  to  leave  it  with  such  a 
scatter-brain  as  I  am.  I  love  flowers,  indeed  ;  that  is,  I 
like  a  regular  bouquet,  cut  off  and  tied  up,  to  carry  to  a 
party;  but  as  to  all  this  tending  and  fussing,  which  is 
needful  to  keep  them  growing,  I  have  no  gifts  in  that  line. 

Florence.  Make  yourself  easy  as  to  that,  Kate.  I  have 
no  intention  of  calling  upon  your  talents ;  I  have  an 
asylum  in  view  for  my  favorite. 

Kate,  0,  then  you  know  just  what  I  wTas  going  to 
say  I  Mrs.  Marshall,  I  presume,  has  been  speaking  to  yon : 
she  was  here  yesterday ;  and  I  was  quite  pathetic  upon  the 
subject,  telling  her  the  loss  your  favorite  would  sustain, 
and  so  forth  ;  and  she  said  how  delighted  she  would  be  to 
have  it  in  her  greenhouse,  —  it  is  in  such  a  fine  state  now, 
so  full  of  buds.  1  told  her  I  knew  you  would  like  to  give 
it  to  her  ;  you  are  so  fond  of  Mrs.  Marshall,  you  know. 

Flor.  Now,  Kate,  I  am  sorry,  but  I  have  otherwise 
engaged  it. 

Kate.  Who  can  it  be  to  ?  you  have  so  few  intimates 
here  ? 

Flor.  0,  it  is  only  one  of  my  odd  fancies! 

Kate.  But  do  tell  me,  Florence. 

Flor.  Well,  cousin,  you  know  the  little  pale  girl  to 
.whom  we  give  sewing? 

Kate.  What !  little  Mary  Stephens  !  how  absurd,  Flor- 
ence !  This  is  just  another  of  your  motherly,  old-maidish 
ways,  dressing  dolls  for  poor  children,  making  bonnets,  and 
knitting  socks  for  all  the  little  dirty  babies  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. I  do  believe  you  have  made  more  calls  in  those 
two  vile  alleys  behind  our  house  than  ever  you  have  in 
Chestnut  Street,  and  now — to  crown  all  —  you  must  give 
this  choice  little  treasure  to  a  seamstress  girl,  when  one  of 
your  most  intimate  friends  in  your  own  class  would  value 


152  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

it  so  highly.  What  in  the  world  can  people  in  their  cir- 
cumstances want  with  flowers  ? 

Flor.  Just  the  same  that  I  do.  Have  you  not  noticed 
that  the  little  girl  never  comes  here  without  looking  wist- 
fully at  the  opening  buds  ?  And  don't  you  remember  the 
other  morning  she  asked  me  so  prettily  if  I  would  let  her 
mother  come  and  see  it,  she  was  so  fond  of  flowers  ? 

Kate.  But,  Florence,  only  think  of  this  rare  flower 
standing  on  a  table  with  ham,  eggs,  cheese,  and  flour,  and 
ctifled  in  that  close  little  room  where  Mrs.  Stephens  and 
her  daughter  manage  to  wash,  iron,  and  cook. 

Flor.  Well,  Kate,  and  if  I  were  obliged  to  live  in  one 
coarse  room,  and  wash,  and  iron,  and  cook,  as  you  say ;  if 
I  had  to  spend  every  moment  of  my  time  in  toil,  with  no 
prospect  from  my  window  but  a  brick  wall  and  dirty  lane, 
such  a  flower  as  this  would  be  untold  enjoyment  to  me. 

Kate.  Pshaw,  Florence !  all  sentiment !  Poor  people 
have  no  time  to  be  sentimental.  Besides,  I  don't  believe  it 
will  grow  with  them  ;  it  is  a  greenhouse  flower,  and  used 
to  delicate  living. 

Flor.  O,  as  to  that,  a  flower  never  inquires  whether 
its  owner  is  rich  or  poor  ;  and  Mrs.  Stephens  —  whatever 
else  she  has  not  —  has  sunshine  of  as  good  quality  as  this 
that  streams  through  our  window.  The  beautiful  things 
that  God  makes  are  his  gifts  to  all  alike.  You  will  see 
that  my  fair  rose  will'  be  as  well  and  cheerful  in  Mrs.  Ste- 
phens's room  as  in  ours. 

Kate.  Well,  after  all,  how  odd !  When  one  gives  to 
poor  people,  one  wants  to  give  them  something  useful,  — 
a  bushel  of  potatoes,  a  ham,  and  such  things. 

Flor.  Why,  certainly  potatoes  and  ham  must  be  sup- 
plied ;  but,  having  administered  to  the  first  and  most 
craving  wants,  why  not  add  any  other  little  pleasures  or 
gratifications  we  may  have  it  in  our  power  to  bestow  ?  I 
know  there  are  many  of  the  poor  who  have  fine  feeling 
and  a  keen  sense  of  the  beautiful,  which  rusts  out  and 
dies,  because  they  are  too  hard  pressed  to  procure  it  any 


THE  TEA-ROSE.  153 

gratification.  Poor  Mrs.  Stephens,  for  example,  I  know 
she  would  enjoy  birds,  and  flowers,  and  music  as  much  as 
I  do.  I  have  seen  her  eye  light  up  as  she  looked  upon 
these  things  in  our  drawing-room ;  and  yet  not  one  beauti- 
ful thing  can  she  command.  From  necessity,  her  room,  her 
clothing,  —  all  she  has,  —  must  be  coarse  and  plain.  You 
should  have  seen  the  rapture  she  and  Mary  felt  when  I 
offered  them  my  rose. 

Kate.  Dear  me  !  all  this  may  be  true  ;  but  I  never 
thought  of  it  before.  I  never  thought  that  these  hard- 
working people  had  any  ideas  of  taste  ! 

Flor.  Then  why  do  you  see  the  geranium  or  rose  so 
carefully  nursed  in  the  old  cracked  teapot  in  the  poorest 
room,  or  the  morning-glory  planted  in  a  box,  and  twined 
about  the  window?  Do  not  these  show  that  the  human 
heart  yearns  for  the  beautiful  in  all  ranks  of  life  ?  You 
remember,  Kate,  how  our  washerwoman  sat  up  a  whole 
night,  after  a  hard  day's  work,  to  make  her  first  baby  a 
pretty  dress  to  be  baptized  in. 

Kate.  Yes  ;  and  I  remember  how  I  laughed  at  you  for 
making  such  a  tasteful  little  cap  for  it. 

Flor.  Well,  Katy,  I  think  the  look  of  perfect  delight 
with  which  the  poor  mother  regarded  her  baby  in  its  new 
dress  and  cap,  was  something  quite  worth  creating.  I  do 
believe  she  could  not  have  felt  more  grateful,  if  I  had  sent 
her  a  barrel  of  flour. 

Kate.  Well,  I  never  thought  before  of  giving  anything 
to  the  poor  but  what  they  really  needed,  and  I  have  al- 
ways-been willing  to  do  that  when  I  could  without  going 
far  out  of  my  way. 

Flor.  But,  cousin,  if  our  Heavenly  Father  gave  to  us 
after  this  mode,  we  should  have  only  coarse,  shapeless  piles 
of  provisions  lying  about  the  world,  instead  of  all  this 
beautiful  variety  of  trees  and  fruits  and  flowers. 

Kate.  Well,  well,  cousin,  I  suppose  you  are  right,  but 
have  mercy  upon  my  poor  head :  it  is  too  small  to  hold  so 
many  new  ideas  all  at  once ;  so  go  on  your  own  way. 

H.  B.  Stowe. 


154  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

LXL  —  THE  ARCHERY  OF  WILLIAM  TELL 

i. 

PLACE  there  the  boy,"  the  tyrant  said  : 
"  Fix  me  the  apple  on  his  head  : 

Ha  !  rebel,  now  ! 
There  is  a  fair  mark  for  thy  shaft,  — - 
There,  try  thy  boasted  archer  craft ! " 

With  quivering  brow 
The  Switzer  gazed  —  his  cheek  grew  pale  — 
His  bold  lips  throbbed,  as  if  would  fail 

Their  laboring  breath. 
"  Ha  !  so  ye  blench  ? "  fierce  Gesler  cried  : 
"  I  Ve  conquered,  slave,  thy  soul  of  pride  !  " 
No  word  to  that  stern  taunt  replied  — 

All  still  as  death. 

ii. 
"  And  what  the  meed  1 "  at  length  Tell  asked, 
"  Bold  fool !  when  slaves  like  thee  are  tasked. 

It  is  my  will  ; 
But  that  thine  eye  may  keener  be, 
And  nerved  to  such  nice  archery, 
If  thou  succeed'st,  thou  goest  free. 

What !  pause  ye  still  ? 
Give  him  a  bow  and  arrow  there  — 
One  shaft  —  but  one."     Madness,  despair, 

And  tortured  love 
One  moment  swept  the  Switzer's  face ; 
Then  passed  away  each  stormy  trace, 
And  high  resolve  reigned  like  a  grace 

Caught  from  above. 

in. 
"  I  take  thy  terms,"  he  murmured  low  ; 
Grasped  eagerly  the  proffered  bow  ; 

The  quiver  searched  ; 
Chose  out  an  arrow  keen  and  long, 
Fit  for  a  sinewy  arm  and  strong,  — 
Placed  it  upon  the  sounding  thong,  — 

The  tough  yew  arched. 


THE   ARCHERY   OF   WILLIAM   TELL.  155 

Deep  stillness  fell  on  all  around  ; 

Through  that  dense  crowd  was  heard  no  sound 

Of  step  or  word  : 
All  watched  with  fixed  and  shuddering  eye 
To  see  that  fearful  arrow  fly  ;  — 
The  light  wTind  died  into  a  sigh, 

And  scarcely  stirred. 

IV. 

The  gallant  boy  stood  firm  and  mute,  — 
He  sawT  the  strong  bow  curved  to  shoot, 

Yet  never  moved  ! 
He  knew  that  pale  fear  ne'er  unmanned 
The  daring  coolness  of  that  hand  ;  — 
He  knew  it  wTas  the  father  scanned 

The  boy  he  loved. 

v. 

Slow  rose  the  shaft ;  —  it  trembled  —  hung. 
"  My  only  boy  !  "  gasped  on  his  tongue  : 

He  could  not  aim  ! 
"  Ha  !  "  cried  the  tyrant,  "  doth  he  quaii  ? 
He  shakes  !    His  haughty  brow  is  pale  !  " 
"  Shoot !  "  cried  a  low  voice  ;  "  canst  thou  faii 

Shoot,  in  Heaven's  name  ! " 

VI. 

Again  the  drooping  shaft  he  took  — - 
Cast  to  the  heaven  one  burning  look,  — - 

Of  all  doubts  reft : 
"  Be  firm,  my  boy  !  "  was  all  he  said  : 
He  drew^  the  bow  —  the  arrow  fled  — ■ 
The  apple  left  the  stripling's  head  — 

"  'T  is  cleft !  't  is  cleft !  " 
And  cleft  it  was,  —  and  Tell  was  free. 

VII. 

Quick  the  brave  boy  wTas  at  his  knee, 

With  flushing  cheek  ; 
But  ere  the  sire  his  child  embraced, 
The  baffled  Austrian  cried  in  haste, 
"  An  arrow  in  thy  belt  is  placed,  — - 

What  means  it  ?  speak  !  " 


156  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

"  To  smite  thee,  tyrant,  to  the  heart ! 
Had  Heaven  so  willed  it  that  my  dart 
Touched  this,  my  boy  !  " 

Wm.  Bairn. 


ZXII.  —  THE  UNKNOWN  PAINTER. 

MUBILLO,  the  celebrated  artist  of  Seville,  often  found 
upon  the  canvas  of  some  one  of  his  pupils  unfin- 
ished sketches  bearing  the  rich  impress  of  genius.  They 
were  executed  during  the  night,  and  he  was  utterly  unable 
to  conjecture  the  author. 

2.  One  morning  the  pupils  had  arrived  at  the  studio 
before  him,  and  were  grouped  before  an  easel,  uttering  ex- 
clamations of  great  surprise,  when  Murillo  entered.  His 
astonishment  was  equal  to  their  own,  on  finding  an  unfin- 
ished head  of  the  Virgin,  of  exquisite  outline,  with  many 
touches  of  surpassing  beauty.  He  appealed  first  to  one  and 
then  another  of  the  young  gentlemen,  to  see  if  they  could 
lay  claim  to  it ;  but  they  returned  a  sorrowful  negative. 
"  He  who  has  left  this  tracery  will  one  day  be  master  of 
us  all." 

3.  "  Sebastian,"  said  he  to  a  youthful  slave  that  stood 
trembling  by,  "  who  occupies  this  studio  at  night  ?  "  "  No 
one  but  myself,  senior."  "  Well,  take  your  station  here 
to-night,  and  if  you  do  not  inform  me  of  the  mysterious 
visitant  to  this  room,  thirty  lashes  shall  be  your  reward 
on  the  morrow."  He  bowed  in  quiet  submission,  and  re- 
tired. 

4.  That  night  he  threw  his  mattress  before  the  easel,  and 
slept  soundly  until  the  clock  struck  three.  He  then  sprang 
from  his  couch  and  exclaimed,  "  Three  hours  are  my  own, 
the  rest  are  my  master's!"  He  seized  a  palette. and  took 
his  seat  at  the  frame,  to  erase  the  work  of  the  preceding 
night.  With  brush  in  hand,  he  paused  before  making  the 
oblivious  stroke.  "  I  cannot,  0,  I  cannot  erase  it ! "  said 
he  ;  "  rather  let  me  finish  it  I  " 


THE   UNKNOWN   PAINTER.  157 

5.  He  went  to  work.  A  little  coloring  here,  a  touch 
there,  a  soft  shade  here  ;  and  thus  three  hours  rolled  un- 
heeded by.  A  slight  noise  caused  him  to  look  up.  Murillo 
with  his  pupils  stood  around ;  the  sunshine  was  peer- 
ing brightly  through  the  casement,  while  yet  the  unextin- 
guished taper  burned. 

6.  Again  he  was  a  slave.  His  eyes  fell  beneath  their 
eager  gaze.  "  "Who  is  your  master,  Sebastian  ?  "  "  You, 
senior."  "  Your  drawing-master,  I  mean  ?  "  "  You,  senior." 
"  I  have  never  given  you  lessons."  "  No,  but  you  gave 
them  to  these  young  gentlemen,  and  I  heard  them."  "  Yes, 
you  have  done  better;  you  have  profited  by  them.  Does 
this  boy  deserve  punishment  or  reward,  my  dear  pupils  ? " 
"  Eeward,  senior,"  was  the  quick  response.  "  What  shall 
it  be?" 

7.  One  suggested  a  suit  of  clothes  ;  another,  a  sum  of 
money ;  but  no  chord  was  touched  in  the  captive's  bosom. 
Another  said,  "  The  master  feels  kindly  to-day ;  ask  your 
freedom,  Sebastian  ! "  He  sank  on  his  knees,  and  lifted  his 
burning  eyes  to  his  master's  face :  "  The  freedom  of  my 
father!" 

8.  Murillo  folded  him  to  his  bosom :  "  Your  pencil  shows 
that  you  have  talent ;  your  request,  that  you  have  a  heart ; 
you  are  no  longer  my  slave,  but  my  son.  Happy  Murillo  ! 
I  have  not  only  painted,  but  made  a  painter." 

9.  There  are  still  to  be  seen  in  classic  Italy  many 
beautiful  specimens  from  the  pencils  of  Murillo  and  Se- 
bastian. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  Murillo  found  unfinished  sketches  upon  the  canvas. 

2.  He  was  utterly  unable  to  conjecture  the  author. 

3.  The  pupils  had  arrived  at  the  studio  before  him. 

4.  They  were  grouped  before  an  easel.     [Frame  used  by  painters.] 

5.  They  found  a  picture  of  exquisite  outline  and  surpassing  heauty. 

6.  You  must  inform  me  of  the  mysterious  visitant  to  this  room. 

7.  He  took  his  seat  at  the  frame  to  erase  his  work. 

8.  The  sunshine  was  peering  brightly  through  the  casement. 


158  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

LXII1.—  AN  APRIL  DAY. 


ALL  day  the  low-hung  clouds  have  dropped 
Their  garnered  fullness  down ; 
All  day  that  soft  gray  mist  hath  wrapped 
Hill,  valley,  grove,  and  town. 

ii. 

There  has  not  been  a  sound  to-day 

To  break  the  calm  of  nature, 
Nor  motion,  I  might  almost  say, 

Of  life,  or  living  creature  \ 

in. 

Of  waving  bough,  or  warbling  bird, 

Or  cattle  faintly  lowing ; 
I  could  have  half  believed  I  heard 

The  leaves  and  blossoms  growing. 

IV. 

I  stood  to  hear  —  I  love  it  well, 

The  rain's  continuous  sound  : 
Small  drops,  but  thick  and  fast  they  fell, 

Down  straight  into  the  ground. 


For  leafy  thickness  is  not  yet 
Earth's  naked  breast  to  screen, 

Though  every  drippiug  branch  is  set 
With  shoots  of  tender  green. 

VI. 

Sure,  since  I  looked  at  early  morn, 

Those  honeysuckle  buds 
Have  swelled  to  double  growth  ;  that  thorn 

Hath  put  forth  larger  studs. 


AN   ArKIL   DAY.  1%) 

VII. 

That  lilac's  cleaving  cones  have  burst, 

The  milk-white  flowers  revealing ; 
Even  now,  upon  my  senses  first 

Methinks  their  sweets  are  stealing. 

VIII. 

The  very  earth,  the  steamy  air, 

Is  all  with  fragrance  rife  ; 
And  grace  and  beauty  everywhere 

Are  flushing  into  life. 

XI. 

Down,  down  they  come,  —  those  fruitful  stores, 

Those  earth-rejoicing  drops  ! 
A  momentary  deluge  pours, 

Then  thins,  decreases,  stops. 

x. 

And  ere  the  dimples  on  the  stream 

Have  circled  out  of  sight, 
Lo  !  from  the  west  a  parting  gleam 

Breaks  forth  of  amber  light. 

XI. 

But  yet  behold  —  abrupt  and  loud, 

Comes  down  the  glittering  rain  ; 
The  farewell  of  a  passing  cloud, 

The. fringes  of  her  train. 

Blackwood's  Magazine. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  The  clouds  have  dropped  their  garnered  fullness  down.  [Gathered.] 

2.  I  stood  to  hear  the  rain's  continuous  sound. 

3.  There  is  no  leafy  thickness  to  screen  earth's  breast. 

4.  Every  branch  is  set  with  shoots  of  tender  green. 

5.  The  steamy  air  is  all  with  fragrance  rife. 

6.  That  lilac's  cleaving  cones  have  hurst. 

7.  A  momentary  deluge  pours,  then  thins,  decreases,  stops. 

8.  A  gleam  of  amber  light  breaks  forth  from  the  west,  ere  the  dim- 
ples on  the  stream  have  circled  out  of  sight. 


160  THE  FIFTH  HEADER. 

LXIV.  —  BOYS'  COUNTRY  AMUSEMENTS. 

AS  boys  must  be  amused,  it  is  a  benevolent  provision 
which  has  decreed  that  it  shall  take  so  little  to 
amuse  them.  All  that  a  boy  needs  is  room  to  play  in  and 
companions  to  play  with,  and  he  is  happy  as  a  king.  I 
always  pity  a  boy  without  a  companion,  or  a  boy  in  Lon- 
don, where  there  is  so  little  room  for  playing ;  and  yet  I 
have  no  doubt  that  even  under  these  circumstances  boys 
manage  to  enjoy  themselves. 

2.  But  doubtless  boyhood  is  in  its  glory  in  the  country. 
The  rural  juvenile  has  an  ever-changing  round  of  congenial 
pleasures,  which  leave  naught  to  be  desired  in  his  lot. 
First,  in  winter  there  is  the  ice,  the  broad  rivers,  the  mud- 
dy ponds,  the  wide  fens,  converted  by  the  magic  of  King 
Frost  into  a  play-ground,  over  which  we  go  skimming  for 
miles  as  if  on  fairies'  wings,  spurning  the  base  realities  of 
solid  earth,  forgetful  of  all  things  but  the  keen  air,  and  the 
sparkling  frost,  and  the  exhilarating  motion.  What  in  life 
could  seem  more  Elysian  to  a  boy  ? 

3.  But  the  clouds  gather,  the  snow  falls  thickly  on  the 
ground  ;  old  ladies  lament,  but  the  boy  rejoices.  Lavish 
Nature  has  sent  him  a  new  pleasure,  —  to  dabble  in  the 
snow  till  he  glows  with  heat,  to  build  the  snow-man  higher, 
higher,  and  dance  around  him,  oblivious  of  wet  feet,  scornful 
of  overshoes.  A  snowball  fight,  mad  charge,  swift  retreat, — 
what  sport  so  full  of  mingled  excitement  and  good-humor  \ 

4.  Perhaps  we  have  talent  enough  to  construct  a  sledge, 
and  go  spinning  down  the  hillside  at  breathless  speed,  gen- 
erally overturning  at  the  end  of  our  journey,  which  is  half 
the  fun.  Perhaps  we  have  hare-and-hounds  over  the  snow, 
tracing  the.  hare  by  his  footsteps,  and  making  the  white 
woods  ring  with  our  shouts.  At  all  events,  we  don't  stay 
by  the  fire  in  this  glorious  weather,  I  promise  you. 

5.  By  and  by  come  spring  and  summer,  and  the  boy 
tribe  still  is  cared  for  by  Nature.  We  are  off  to  the  woods  ; 
we  are  the  first  to  hail  the  primrose  and  the  gentle  violet ; 


BOYS'    COUNTRY   AMUSEMENTS. 


1G1 


we  climb  the  trees,  bursting  forth  into  bloom,  in  search  of 
birds'-nests.  The  year  grows  hot ;  and  in  cool  rivers,  under 
shady  willows,  or  in  deep,  black  pools,  or  perhaps  on  far- 
stretching  yellow  sands,  we  lave  our  limbs,  splashing,  shout- 
ing, and  singing  as  joyfully  and  fearlessly  as  if  Adam  were 
still  in  his  garden,  sinless  and  sorrowless. 


6.  Then  we  mount  the  pony,  and  scamper  through  the 
leafy  lanes,  or  we  roll  in  the  pleasant  hay,  or  we  gather 
daisy-chains,  and  pelt  each  other  with  buttercups.  By  and 
by,  when  autumn  has  begun  with  a  fair  show  of  kindness 
to  do  its  ruthless  work,  we  are  off,  basket  in  hand,  to  gather^ 
nuts  and  blackberries. 

7.  And  we  dance  among  the  fallen  leaves,  merrily 
thoughtless  of  the  sober 'lesson  they  would  teach  us;  and 
we  pile  them  and  the  fir-cones  into  bonfires,  and  rejoice  in 
the  blaze  and  the  cloud  of  smoke,  and  glory  in  having 
burned  our  fingers  and  made  light  of  the  pain  ;  and  may- 


162  THE   FIFTH   READER- 

hap,  if  the   cook  be  gracious,  we  roast   potatoes  in  the 
embers,  and  imagine  ourselves  young  Robinson  Crusoes. 

8.  Thus  pleasure  is  added  to  pleasure,  till  a  hard  frost 
some  night  late  in  October  reminds  us  that  it  is  time  to 
begin  the  round  again.  And  at  all  times  we  have  room  to 
run  and  jump  and  tumble  and  howl  to  our  heart's  content, 
without  fear  of  breaking  anything,  or  frightening  anybody, 
unless  haply  an  aged  donkey,  browsing  in  the  next  field 
Is  not  the  country  boy's  lot  cast  in  pleasant  places  ? 

A.  R.  Hojn. 


LXV.  —  THE  MOSS-BOSK 

i. 

11  HE  Angel  of  the  Flowers  one  day 
Beneath  a  rose-tree  sleeping  lay,  - — 
That  spirit  to  whose  charge  is  given 
To  bathe  young  buds  in  dews  from  heaven. 
Awaking  from  his  light  repose, 
The  Angel  whispered  to  the  Rose  :  — 

ii. 
"  0  fondest  object  of  my  care, 
Still  fairest  found  where  all  are  fair, 
For  the  sweet  shade  thou  hast  given  me, 
Ask  what  thou  wilt,  't  is  granted  thee." 

in. 
Then  said  the  Rose,  with  deepening  glow, 
"  On  me  another  grace  bestow." 
The  spirit  paused  in  silent  thought,  — 
What  grace  was  there  that  flower  had  not  1 

IV. 

5T  was  but  a  moment,  —  o'er  the  Rose 
A  veil  of  moss  the  Angel  throws ; 
And,  robed  in  nature's  simplest  weed, 
Could  there  a  flower  that  Rose  exceed  ? 

Krummacker. 


EARNING   ENJOYMENT.  163 

LXVL-  EARNING  ENJOYMENT. 

OXE  day  I  heard  a  boy  say  to  his  younger  brother,  who 
was  crying  lustily,  "  Now,  Tom,  I  know  you  don't 
want  anything,  but  what  do  you  think  you  want  ? "  That 
boy  was  a  philosopher,  and  went  to  the  root  of  the  matter. 
It  is  not  what  we  really  want,  but  what  we  think  we  want, 
that  frets  most  of  us.  If  you  only  could  snatch  to-day's 
happiness,  instead  of  wondering  if  you  could  not  get  a 
great  deal  more  for  that  to-morrow  which  may  never  come 
to  you,  would  n't  it  be  wiser  ? 

2.  The  other  day  I  went  off  into  the  woods  with  a  dear 
little  girl  who  is  much  more  of  a  poetess  than  a  philoso- 
pher. Not  a  patch  of  soft  green  moss,  not  the  tiniest 
bud  of  a  wild-flower,  or  flitting  butterfly,  or  bird,  or  tree- 
shadow  on  the  smooth  clear  lake,  escaped  her  bright,  glad 
eyes. 

3.  The  first  flower  she  found  enraptured  her,  and  she 
climbed  a  steep  rock  for  the  second,  and  so  on,  till  her  tiny 
hands  were  full.  Just  then  she  found  quite  a  bunch  of 
bright  pink  blossoms,  and  I  was  so  glad  for  her;  when 
suddenly  she  burst  into  such  a  grieved,  piteous  cry,  "  0 
dear !  0  dear !  what  shall  I  do  ?     I  can't  hold  them  all." 

4.  If  we  would  only  think  of  that !  That  we  "  can't 
hold  them  all "  ;  that  in  order  to  grasp  that  which  is  the 
moment's  wish,  we  must  let  something  else  drop  that  we 
prize,  —  something  that  we  can  never  retrace  our  steps  to 
reclaim,  — it  may  be  health,  or  character,  or  life  itself,  for 
that  which  is  so  perishable,  so  unsatisfying,  so  harmful, 
that  we  can  never  cease  wondering  how  the  glamour  of 
it  could  have  so  dazzled  our  mental  and  moral  vision. 

5.  The  little  child  I  speak  of,  who  clambered  up  the  rock 
to  secure  that  one  flower,  was  happier  in  its  possession  than 
with  myriads  that  she  afterwards  found  lying  at  her  very 
feet.  She  had  earned  that  one !  She  had  encountered  a 
fierce  brier-bush  ;  she  had  got  her  hands  scratched  in  the 
conflict ;  she  had  tickled  her  little  nose  with  a  defiant  twig ; 


164  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

she  had  tangled  her  curls  ;  she  had  scraped  her  little  fat 
knee  till  it  was  red,  —  and  got  the  flower  I  All  herself  too 
6.  I  could  n't  elaborate  a  better  moral,  if  I  preached  an 
hour.  We  don't  value  happiness  in  heaps.  It  is  the  one 
little  sweet  blossom  that  we  earn  by  faithful  work,  which 
we  love  best  after  all.     Is  n't  it  so  ? 

Fanny  Fern. 


LXVIL—  WARREN'S  ADDRESS. 

AT    THE    BATTLE    OF -BUNKER    HILL. 
I. 

STAND  !  the  ground  's  your  own,  my  braves 
Will  ye  give  it  up  to  slaves  ] 
Will  ye  look  for  greener  graves  ] 

Hope  ye  mercy  still  % 

What 's  the  mercy  despots  feel1? 

Hear  it  in  that  battle  peal ! 

Read  it  on  yon  bristling  steel ! 

Ask  it  —  ye  who  will. 

ii. 
Fear  ye  foes  who  kill  for  hire  ? 
Will  ye  to  your  homes  retire  1 
Look  behind  you  !  they  're  afire  ! 

And,  before  you,  see 
Who  have  done  it !  —  From  the  vale 
On  they  come  !  —  and  will  ye  quail  1  — 
Leaden  rain  and  iron  hail 

Let  their  welcome  be  ! 

in. 
In  the  God  of  battles  trust ! 
Die  we  may  —  and  die  we  must : 
But,  0  where  can  dust  to  dust 

Be  consigned  so  well, 
As  where  heaven  its  dews  shall  shed. 
On  the  martyred  patriot's  bed, 
And  the  rocks  shall  raise  their  head, 

Of  his  Heeds  to  tellt 


THE   HEROINE  OF   EDINBURGH.  165 

LXVIII  —  THE  HEROINE  OF  EDINBURGH. 

SEVENTEEN  hundred  and  forty-five!  How  many 
associations  are  linked  in  a  Scottish  mind  with  these 
magic  numbers  !  More  than  a  hundred  years  have  passed 
since  then,  yet  the  very  name  of  the  date  brings  a  dark 
shadow  on  many  a  brow,  and  a  sigh  from  many  a  heart. 
The  city  of  Edinburgh  was  besieged,  and  after  a  short  strug- 
gle yielded  to  the  assailing  party.  The  Jacobite  flag  waved 
from  its  walls,  and  with  the  exception  of  the  Castle,  fell 
easily  (perhaps  willingly)  into  the  hands  of  the  besiegers. 

2.  A  court  was  held  at  Holyrood  House,  a  council  of 
war  convened,  and  a  plan  for  surprising  the  garrison  in  the 
Castle  (still  bravely  defended  by  General  Guest)  resolved 
upon.  The  execution  of  this  perilous  attempt  was  confided 
to  a  young  man  in  the  Pretender's  *  ranks  named  John 
McKinnon,  a  most  expert  climber. 

3.  He  engaged  to  scale  the  Castle  Hill  during  the  night, 
drawing  up  with  him  a  rope  to  be  fastened  to  an  iron  ring 
which  he  affirmed  was  to  be  found  at  the  foot  of  the  lofty 
Castle  wall,  overgrown  with  lichen,  and  so  concealed  from 
view.  By  means  of  this  rope  the  Pretender's  troops  were 
to  be  guided  up  the  almost  perpendicular  rock,  put  the 
garrison  to  the  sword,  and  obtain  possession  of  the  "  Citadel 
of  the  North." 

4.  John  McKinnon  had  a  brother,  to  whom  he  wished 
to  confide  his  intended  exploit,  and  communicated  all  these 
particulars  to  him  that  same  night,  in  a  field  near  the  city. 
He  knew  not  that  he  was  overheard  by  a  young  girl  on  the 
other  side  of  the  hedge,  but  not  a  word  was  lost.  Sisterly 
love  had  sharpened  the  ear  of  the  Scottish  maiden,  whose 
only  brother  was  a  sergeant  in  the  garrison  troops.  She 
heard  that  the  attempt  to  climb  and  fix  the  rope  would  be 
made  on  the  following  night,  and  that  on  the  succeeding 
one  his  comrades  would  begin  their  perilous  ascent. 

*  Charles  Edward,  grandson  of  James  II.,  was  called  the  Pretender,  on 
account  of  his  claiming  the  British  throne. 


LQQ  the  fifth  header. 

5.  What  was  Jeanie  to  do,  —  how  save  her  brother  ? 
Any  intercourse  between  the  besiegers  and  the  besieged 
was  impossible.  A  signal  could  not  be  made,  and  if  she 
disclosed  her  secret  information  her  own  life  would  be 
forfeited.  After  a  short  deliberation,  she  resolved  to  save 
her  brother  or  perish  in  the  attempt.  If  man  could  tempt 
that  hideous  ascent  for  love  of  gain,  might  not  woman  for 
sisterly  affection  ? 

6.  Darkness  was  around  her  as  she  crept  to  the  foot  of 
the  hill,  darkness  befriended  her  as  she  clung  to  its  steep 
side,  and  eagerly  availed  herself  of  each  crevice  for  her 
naked  foot,  and  each  stunted  plant  for  her  active  hand. 
At  every  pause  in  her  toilsome  and  perilous  employment 
she  whispered,  "  My  brother,  my  brother " ;  nor  did  she 
relax  her  exertions  until,  by  a  desperate  effort,  she  planted 
her  foot  on  a  ledge  of  rock  just  broad  enough  to  afford  her 
a  resting-place. 

7.  It  has  been  said  that  it  "  would  require  a  long  line 
of  thought  to  fathom  the  depths  of  piety  in  a  Scottish 
peasant's  heart."  If  this  be  true  of  a  nation,  how  much 
more  of  an  individual  like  her  before  us !  How  fervent 
her  thanksgiving  for  having  reached  a  spot  of  comparative 
safety  !  How  earnest  her  prayers  for  complete  success  ! 
How  ardent  her  hope  of  saving  one  so  dear !  But  how 
long  might  she  venture  to  pause  here  ? 

8.  The  cathedral  bell  tolled  one.  The  sentries  on  the 
Castle  were  changed,  the  password  given,  and  all  was  still 
again.  Might  she  now  proceed?  At  this  moment  the 
moon  peeped  faintly  from  behind  the  shadow  of  a  friendly 
cloud,  —  a  light  breeze  moved  her  dress.  A  soldier  on  the 
wall  started  forward  and  discharged  his  musket  towards 
the  spot.  No  cry  escaped  her,  —  pale,  but  still,  she  stood 
as  if  rooted  to  the  ground.  The  smoke  cleared  away,— 
one  start  would  have  been  fatal ;  but  the  man  moved  on, 
and  in  reply  to  his  comrade  said,  "  Only  a  sea-mew." 

9.  Men  applaud  the  bravery  of  him  who  rushes  on  the 
cannon's  mouth  and  dies  on  the  battle-field;  they  honor 


THE   HEROINE  OF   EDINBURGH.  16? 

him  who  braves  the  perils  of  a  naval  life  and  boards  the 
enemy,  sword  in  hand.  But  consider  the  calm,  enduring 
courage  of  this  young  maiden,  —  see  her  risking  a  fearful 
death  with  no  eye  to  applaud,  no  tongue  to  encourage,  and 
none  to  tell  him  for  whom  she  thus  risked  her  life  what 
his  loving  sister  had  done  for  his  sake  ! 

10.  The  moon  shone  brightly  forth,  —  to  move  now  was 
certain  discovery.  Here,  then,  midway  up  that  fearful 
precipice,  must  she  remain  till  the  darkness  befriended  her 
once  more  !  All  night  she  stood  ;  cold  winds  were  gather- 
ing round  her,  but  could  not  chill  the  warmth  of  her  loving 
heart ;  misty  clouds  folded  her  in  their  clammy  vapor,  she 
heeded  them  not.  The  morning  dew,  the  midday  sun,  the 
evening  shade  passed  away,  —  darkness,  welcome  darkness 
urged  her  on. 

11.  Her  toilsome  ascent  was  resumed,  and  ere  the  cathe- 
dral clock  struck  one  again,  she  had  reached  the  parapet, 
been  assisted  over  by  the  sentinel,  told  her  tale  to  the 
Governor,  and  received  her  astonished  brother's  blessing ! 

12.  The  rest  is  soon  told.  McKinnon  succeeded,  a  few 
hours  later,  in  reaching  the  wall,  was  seized,  and  shot  on 
the  parapet.  Jeanie  remained  in  the  Castle  with  the  Gov- 
ernor's lady,  and  bore  her  many  honors  meekly. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  The  city  was  besieged,  and  after  a  short  struggle  yielded  to  the 
assailing  party. 

2.  A  plan  for  surprising  the  garrison  in  the  Castle  was  resolved 
upon. 

3.  The  execution  of  this  perilous  attempt  was  confided  to  a  young 
man. 

4.  He  engaged  to  scale  the  Castle  Hill  during  the  night. 

5.  He  communicated  these  particulars  to  his  brother. 

6.  Jeanie  heard  that  the  attempt  to  climb  would  be  made  the  fol- 
lowing night. 

7.  If  she  disclosed  the    secret,    her  own   life  would  be  forfeited 
[Lost  as  punishment.] 

8.  After  deliberation  she  resolved  to  save  her  brother  or  perish. 


168  THE  FIFTH  READER 


LXIX.  —  THE  OLD  TEAR  AND  THE  NEW 

i. 

RING  out,  wild  bells,  to  the  wild  sky, 
The  flying  cloud,  the  frosty  light ; 
The  year  is  dying  in  the  night ; 
Ring  out,  wild  bells,  and  let  him  die. 

ii. 
Ring  out  the  old,  ring  in  the  ne~w, 

Ring,  happy  bells,  across  the  snow  ; 

The  year  is  going,  let  him  go  ; 
Ring  out  the  false,  ring  in  the  true. 

in. 
Ring  out  the  grief  that  saps  the  mind 

For  those  that  here  we  see  no  more  ; 

Ring  out  the  feud  of  rich  and  poor, 
Ring  in  redress  to  all  mankind. 

IV. 

Ring  out  a  slowly  dying  cause, 

And  ancient  forms  of  party  strife  ; 
Ring  in  the  nobler  modes  of  life, 

And  sweeter  manners,  purer  laws. 

v. 
Ring  out  false  pride  in  place  and  blood, 

The  civic  slander  and  the  spite  ; 

Ring  in  the  love  of  truth  and  right, 
Ring  in  the  common  love  of  good. 

VI. 

Ring  in  the  valiant  and  the  free, 

The  larger  heart,  the  kindlier  hand  ; 
Ring  out  the  darkness  of  the  land  ; 

Ring  in  the  Christ  that  is  to  be. 

Tennyson 


HOW  THE  GIANT  WAS  CAUGHT  AND  SET  TO  WORK.   169 

LXX.  —  HOW  THE  GIANT  WAS  CAUGHT  AND 
SET  TO  WORK. 

MORE  than  twenty-live  hundred  years  ago  an  old 
Greek  philosopher  noticed  that  amber,  when 
rubbed,  had  a  strange  power  of  attracting  to  itself  light 
bodies,  such  as  straws,  hairs,  and  small  sticks.  The  phi- 
losopher wondered  and  thought  about  this,  and  made  men- 
tion of  it  in  his  writings,  but  he  died  without  having  found 
out  any  good  reason  for  it.  At  intervals  of  several  hundred 
years  two  or  three  other  of  the  wise  men  of  ancient  times 
spoke  of  this  singular  power  of  amber.  They  made  men- 
tion, too,  of  a  queer  fish  that  gave  shocks  to  any  animal 
that  came  in  contact  with  it. 

2.  They  also  noticed — just  what  you  must  have  seen 
many  times  —  that  when  they  took  off  their  clothes  on  a 
cold  night  they  heard  a  crackling  noise,  and  saw  sparks  of 
light ;  and  that  their  hair,  on  being  combed,  crackled  and 
sparkled  ;  and  that  a  cat's  back,  when  rubbed  the  wrong  way, 
gave  out  sparks.  For  more  than  two  thousand  years  gen- 
eration after  generation  of  men  and  women  lived,  noticed 
these  queer  things,  and,  like  the  old  Greek,  died  without 
having  found  out  any  reason  for  them. 

3.  But  about  the  year  sixteen  hundred,  an  Englishman, 
named  Dr.  Gilbert,  set  to  work  trying  experiments,  and  he 
found  out  that  not  only  amber,  but  many  other  things,  had, 
wdien  rubbed,  this  power  of  attraction.  Slowly  and  pa- 
tiently he  worked.  When  people  want  to  find  out  a  scien- 
tific truth  they  do  not  do  it  by  a  lucky  guess  or  a  series  of 
lucky  guesses.  Sometimes  it  takes  a  whole  lifetime  of  ex- 
periment and  observation  to  arrive  at  and  establish  one 
little  fact  in  science. 

4.  Many  learned  men  became  interested  in  the  dis- 
coveries of  Dr.  Gilbert ;  there  was  some  strange  power  of 
attraction  hidden  in  these  bodies  which  they  could  not 
account  for  or  understand.  They  made  machines  to  try 
experiments  ;  they  spent  their  time  and  money  and  brains 


170  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

in  finding  out  the  truth,  and  they  found  out  a  great  deal 
of  truth  about  this  wonderful  influence  which  they  called 
electricity. 

5.  Some  of  the  wise  men,  too,  had  their  suspicions  that 
electricity  was  the  same  as  lightning,  —  the  sparkle  corre- 
sponding to  the  flash,  the  crackling  noise  to  the  thunder,  — 
but  they  had  no  way  to  prove  their  suspicions  to  be  true  : 
they  had  no  way  of  going  up  to  the  clouds  to  examine 
the  lightning,  and  they  had  no  way  to  bring  it  down  to 
earth. 

6.  But  Benjamin  Franklin  got  a  notion  into  his  wise 
head  that  if  he  could  get  on  top  of  a  high  steeple  during  a 
thunder-storm,  he  could  get  enough  lightning  to  experiment 
with.  There  were  no  high  steeples  in  Philadelphia  at  that 
time,  so  he  thought  of  another  way.  He  made  a  kite,  the 
most  famous  kite  that  ever  went  sailing  up  from  this  wide 
world  of  ours. 

7.  Tt  was  a  small  cross-shaped  kite,  just  like  any  boy's 
kite,  only  it  was  covered  with  thin  silk  instead  of  paper, — 
for  the  rain  would  have  spoiled  paper,  —  and  it  had  some 
sharp,  metallic  points  sticking  out  from  the  corners.  It 
was  a  gallant  little  messenger  ;  it  rode  fearlessly  on  the 
wings  of  the  wind  away  up  into  the  sky  ;  it  entered  bravely 
at  the  portals  of  a  dark  and  threatening  cloud. 

8.  "Good-morning,  thunder  and  liiditnino- !"  called  out 
the  little  messenger ;  "  my  master  sent  me  to  inquire  if 
you  are  any  relation  to  the  snaps  and  sparkles  he  makes  in 
his  electrical  machine.  If  you  are,  just  send  a  shock  down 
this  tow-string  ;  my  master  has  hold  of  the  other  end,  and 
he  will  understand  what  you  mean  in  a  minute." 

9.  "  Mind  your  own  business  ! "  returned  thunder  and 
lightning  with  a  terrible  flash  and  groan.  "  If  your  master 
wants  to  know  about  my  family  relations,  he  must  find  out 
in  some  other  way  ;  that  tow-string  will  carry  no  message 
of  mine." 

10.  At  this  tow-string  began  to  bristle  up  and  look  ex- 
cited, and  the  rain-water,  that  had  been  keeping  house  in 


HOW  THE  GIANT  WAS  CAUGHT  AND  SET  TO  WORK.  171 

the    next  door    cloud,   and    was  just  starting    earthward, 
flashed  out  angrily:  — 

"Thunder  and  lightning,  you  are  too  proud  to  own  your 
poor  relations!  Ever  since  the  world  was  made,  you  have 
been  careering  through  the  heavens  with  your  great  flash- 
ings and  groanings,  pretending  you  did  not  have  anything 
to  do  on  the  earth  except  to  frighten  men  to  death  and 
tumble  down  their  houses.  But  I'll  tell  of  you;  I'll  soon 
let  that  wise  man  know  that  you  are  not  a  terrible  and 
mysterious  heavenly  being,  but  a  very  common  resident  of 
earth,  just  as  I  am.  I've  been  aching  to  tell  about  you  for 
thousands  of  years,  but  I  Ye  never  found  any  one  on  earth 
wise  enough  to  understand  my  talk." 

11.  Thunder  and  lightning  roared  and  flashed  in  great 
fury  when  it  heard  this,  but  rain-water  slid  down  the  tow- 
string  with  great  glee,  and  with  a  series  of  jerks  and  shocks 
soon  informed  the  wise  doctor  all  he  wanted  to  know  about 
the  distinguished  relations  of  electricity. 

12.  That  must  have  been  a  sad  day  for  the  old  giant  that 
had  ranged  the  heavens  and  terrified  the  earth  since  the 
creation  ;  he  must  have  felt  humbled  when  he  had  to  come 
down  the  string  and  get  into  a  bottle  and  perform  experi- 
ments for  the  doctor. 

13.  Ah,  but  it  was  a  great  day  for  the  world  !  The  wise 
doctor  rejoiced,  and  all  the  wise  men  all  over  the  world 
were  glad  at  the  new-s  when  they  heard  it. 

14.  So  the  people  lost  their  terror  of  this  giant,  and  he 
did  not  dare  to  go  zigzagging  around  through  the  air,  knock- 
ing down  people's  houses,  for  the  people  put  sharp-pointed 
rods  of  iron  on  their  dwellings,  and  the  great  giant  did  not 
dare  to  touch  a  house  thus  protected,  because  the  sharp  sen- 
tinel was  ever  on  the  lookout. 

15.  "  Don't  touch  my  house  !  This  way,  my  friend.  I  '11 
take  you  safe  to  a  good  place."  And  the  first  thing  the 
old  giant  knew  he  was  whisked  underground,  tight  in 
prison,  where  he  could  do  no  mischief. 

16.  But  men  were  not  content  to  keep  the  old  fellow 


172  ™e  fifth  reader. 

out  of  mischief;  they  longed  to  set  him  to  work.  The 
chemists  found  out  how  to  make  him  useful  in  their 
laboratories.  The  doctors  set  him  to  healing  their  pa- 
tients, and  the  silversmiths  made  him  plate  their  wares. 
But  still  some  wise  men  were  sure  that  he  was  able 
to  do  many  more  useful  things.  They  were  certain  that, 
if  they  could  only  invent  the  right  sort  of  a  road  and  the 
right  sort  of  a  harness,  they  could  make  the  great  giant 
travel  from  place  to  place  carrying  the  news. 

17.  uAh,"  said  the  wise  men,  "he  is  just  the  one  to 
carry  the  news  ;  he  is  so  strong,  so  tireless,  so  swift,  so 
secret,  — just  the  one,  if  we  can  only  make  him  do  it." 

18.  "  So  they  worried  their  wise  heads  night  and  day 
for  many  a  year  ;  they  devised  plans  and  invented  ma- 
chines. But  the  old  giant  laughed  their  plans  to  scorn  ;  he 
broke  in  pieces  their  machines,  he  shocked  and  stunned  the 
wise  heads  themselves.  He  pranced  away  from  them  and 
danced  in  the  air. 

19.  It  happened,  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  that  a  small 
thought  entered  into  a  wise  man's  head,  and  dwelt  there 
until  it  worked  itself  out  into  life  and  action  in  the  shape 
of  Morse's  Telegraph. 

20.  And  the  old  giant  knew,  as  soon  as  he  saw  this 
machine,  that  he  was  caught  and  harnessed  and  must 
go  to  work.  He  knew  he  was  mastered,  so  he  never 
winced  or  flinched  the  least  bit  ;  he  settled  himself  in 
the  traces  ;  the  harness  fitted  so  well  he  could  not  keep 
from  working  in  it.  The  road  suited  his  tastes  far  better 
than  the  old  ragged,  zigzag  route  he  used  to  engineer 
out  for  himself. 

21.  All  over  the  round  world  to-day  the  track  of  the 
giant  is  gleaming  in  crystal  and  steel ;  from  north  to  south, 
from  east  to  west,  in  the  heavens  above,  in  the  earth  be- 
neath, and  in  the  waters  under  the  earth,  he  ceases  not  to 
toil  for  man.  Silent,  omnipresent,  sleepless,  and  tireless, 
this  grand  ally  of  civilization,  with  his  heart  of  fire  and 
his    sinews   of  steel,  keeps  the  deep  pulses  of  humanity 


THE  LARK  AND  THE  NIGHTINGALE.  173 

throbbing  with  the  same  beat,  rejoicing  for  the  same  joy, 
mourning  for  the  same  sorrow. 

22.  So  the  giant  Electricity  works  joyfully  in  the  service 
of  mankind;  he  works  according  to  his  owTn  nature;  he 
obeys  the  laws  that  were  set  for  him  from  the  creation  of 
the  world.  When  the  mind  of  a  man  conquered  these 
laws,  it  conquered  him. 

23  The  earth  is  a  great  storehouse  of  hidden  forces ;  the 
strong  men  and  wise  men  of  the  future  shall  draw  the 
bolts  and  turn  the  rusted  keys,  and  bring  forth  its  treasures 
to  enrich  and  exalt  the  whole  human  race.  Boys  and  girls, 
knowledge  and  thought  are  the  keys !  Grasp  them  surely, 
use  them  skilfully,  enter  upon  the  heritage  secured  to  you 
from  the  beginning  of  time. 

T.  S.  Arthur. 


LXXL-  -THE  LARK  AND  THE  NIGHTINGALE. 

i. 

T  M  IS  sweet  to  hear  the  merry  lark, 

1      That  bids  a  blithe  good  morrow ; 
But  sweeter  to  hark  in  the  twinkling  dark. 

To  the  soothing  song  of  sorrow. 
0  nightingale  !    What  doth  she  ail  % 

And  is  she  sad  or  jolly  1 
For  ne'er  on  earth  was  sound  of  mirth 

So  like  to  melancholy." 


The  merry  lark,  he  soars  on  high, 

No  worldly  thought  o'ertakes  him ; 
He  sings  aloud  to  the  clear  blue  sky, 

And  the  daylight  that  awakes  him. 
As  sweet  a  lay,  as  loud,  as  gay, 

The  nightingale  is  trilling ; 
With  feeling  bliss,  no  less  than  his, 

Her  little  heart  is  thrilling. 


174  THE  FIFTH  READER 

in. 
Yet,  ever  and  anon,  a  sigh, 

Peers  through  her  lavish  mirth ; 
For  the  lark's  bold  song  is  of  the  sky, 

And  hers  is  of  the  earth. 
By  night  and  day  she  tunes  her  lay, 

To  drive  away  all  sorrow ; 
For  bliss,  alas  !  to-night  must  pass, 

And  woe  may  come  to-morrow. 

Hartley  Coleridge. 


LXXIL  —  THE  QUARREL   OF  SQUIRE  BULL 
AND  HIS  SON  JONATHAN. 

JOHN  BULL  was  a  choleric  old  fellow,  who  held  a 
good  manor  in  the  middle  of  a  great  mill-pond,  and 
which,  by  reason  of  its  being  quite  surrounded  by  water, 
was  generally  called  "Bullock  Island."  Bull  was  an  in- 
genious man,  an  exceedingly  good  blacksmith,  a  dexter- 
ous cutler,  and  a  notable  weaver  besides.  He  was,  in 
fact,  a  sort  of  Jack-at-all-trades,  and  good  at  each. 

2.  In  addition  to  these,  he  was  a  hearty  fellow,  a  jolly 
companion,  and  passably  honest,  as  the  times  go.  But 
what  tarnished  all  these  qualities,  was  an  exceedingly 
quarrelsome,  overbearing  disposition,  which  was  always 
getting  him  into  some  scrape  or  other.  The  truth  is,  he 
never  heard  of  a  quarrel  going  on  among  his  neighbors, 
but  his  fingers  itched  to  take  a  part  in  it;  so  that  he  was 
hardly  ever  seen  without  an  arm  in  a  sling  or  a  bruised 
eye. 

3.  Such  was  Squire  Bull,  as  he  was  commonly  called  by 
the  country  people,  his  neighbors,  —  one  of  those  odd, 
testy,  grumbling,  boasting  old  codgers,  that  never  get 
credit  for  what  they  are,  because  they  are  always  pre- 
tending to  be  what  they  are  not.     The  squire  was  as  tight 


QCTARREL   OF   SQUIRE   BULL   AND   JONATHAN        175 

a  hand  to  deal  with  in  doors  as  out ;  sometimes  treating 
his  family  as  if  they  were  not  the  same  flesh  and  blood, 
when  they  happened  to  differ  with  him  in  certain  mat- 
ters. 

4.  One  day  he  got  into  a  dispute  with  his  youngest  son, 
Jonathan,  who  was  familiarly  called  Brother  Jonathan, 
whether  churches  ought  to  be  called  churches  or  meeting- 
houses ;  and  whether  steeples  were  not  an  abomination. 
The  squire,  either  having  the  worst  of  the  argument,  or 
being  naturally  impatient  of  contradiction,  —  I  can't  tell 
which,  —  fell  into  a  great  passion,  and  declared  he  would 
drive    such    notions  out  of  the  boy's  head. 

5.  So  he  went  to  some  of  his  doctors,  and  got  them 
to  draw  up  a  prescription,  made  up  of  thirty-nine  differ- 
ent articles,  many  of  them  bitter  enough  to  some  palates. 
This  he  tried  to  make  Jonathan  swallow  ;  and,  finding 
he  made  wry  faces,  and  would  not  do  it,  fell  upon  him 
and  beat  him  soundly.  After  this,  he  made  the  house  so 
disagreeable  to  him,  that  Jonathan,  though  as  hard  as 
a  pine  knot,  and  as  tough  as  leather,  could  bear  it  no 
longer. 

6.  Taking  his  gun  and  his  ax,  he  put  himself  into  a 
boat  and  paddled  over  the  mill-pond  to  some  new  lands; 
to  which  the  squire  pretended  to  have  some  sort  of  claim. 
Jonathan  intended  to  settle  the  lands,  and  build  a  meeting- 
house without  a  steeple,  as  soon  as  he  grew  rich  enough. 
When  he  got  over,  he  found  that  the  land  was  quite  in 
a  state  of  nature,  covered  with  wood,  and  inhabited  only 
by  wild  beasts. 

7.  But,  being  a  lad  of  spirit,  he  took  his  ax  on  one 
shoulder  and  his  gun  on  the  other,  marched  into  the  thick- 
est of  the  wood,  and,  clearing  a  place,  built  a  log  hut.  Pur- 
suing his  labors,  and  handling  his  ax  like  a  notable  wood- 
man, he  in  a  few  years  cleared  the  land,  which  he  laid  out 
into  thirteen  good  farms ;  and,  building  himself  a  large 
house,  which  he  partly  finished,  began  to  be  quite  snug 
and  comfortable, 


176  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

8.  But  Squire  Bull,  who  was  getting  old  and  stingy,  and, 
besides,  was  in  great  want  of  money,  on  account  of  his  hav- 
ing lately  been  made  to  pay  heavy  damages  for  assaulting 
his  neighbors  and  breaking  their  heads, — the  squire,  I  say, 
finding  Jonathan  was  getting  well-to-do  in  the  world,  be- 
gan to  be  very  much  troubled  about  his  welfare  ;  so  he 
demanded  that  Jonathan  should  pay  him  a  good  rent  for 
the  land  which  he  had  cleared  and  made  good  for  some- 
thing. 

9.  He  made  up  I  know  not  what  claim  against  him,  and 
under  different  pretences  managed  to  pocket  all  Jonathan's 
honest  gains.  In  fact,  the  poor  lad  had  not  a  shilling  left 
for  holiday  occasions  ;  and,  had  it  not  been  for  the  filial 
respect  he  felt  for  the  old  man,  he  would  certainly  have 
refused  to  submit  to  such  impositions.  But  for  all  this, 
in  a  little  time  Jonathan  grew  up  to  be  very  large  of 
his  age,  and  became  a  tall,  stout,  double-jointed,  broad- 
footed  cub  of  a  fellow,  awkward  in  his  gait  and  simple 
in  his  appearance,  but  having  a  lively,  shrewd  look,  and 
giving  the  promise  of  great  strength  when  he  should  get 
his  growth. 

10.  He  was  rather  an  odd-looking  chap,  in  truth,  and 
had  many  queer  ways ;  but  everybody  who  had  seen  John 
Bull  saw  a  great  likeness  between  them,  and  declared  he 
was  John's  own  boy,  a  true  chip  of  the  old  block.  Like 
the  old  squire,  he  was  apt  to  be  blustering  and  saucy,  but, 
in  the  main,  was  a  peaceable  sort  of  careless  fellow,  that 
would  quarrel  with  nobody  if  you  only  let  him  alone.  He 
used  to  dress  in  homespun  trousers,  and  always  wore  a 
linsey-woolsey  coat,  the  sleeves  of  which  were  so  short 
that  his  hand  and  wrist  came  out  beyond  them,  looking 
like  a  shoulder  of  mutton  ;  all  of  which  was  in  conse- 
quence of  his  growing  so  fast  that  he  outgrew  his  clothes. 

11.  While  Jonathan  was  coming  up  in  this  way,  Bull 
kept  on  picking  his  pockets  of  every  penny  put  into  them ; 
till  at  last,  one  day  when  the  squire  was  even  more  than 
usually  pressing  in  his  demands,  which  he   accompanied 


SO   WORK   THE   HARDEST 'WORK  177 

with  threats,  Jonathan  started  up  in  a  passion,  and  threw 
the  teakettle  at  the  old  man's  head. 

12.  The  choleric^  Bull  was  hereupon  exceedingly  enraged, 
and,  after  calling  the  poor  lad  an  undutiful,  ungrateful, 
rebellious  rascal,  seized  him  by  the  collar,  and  forthwith 
a  furious  scuffle  ensued.  This  lasted  a  long  time ;  for  the 
squire,  though  in  years,  was  a  capital  boxer.  At  last, 
however,  Jonathan  got  him  under,  and  before  he  would 
let  him  up,  made  him  sign  a  paper  giving  up  all  claim 
to  the  farms,  and  acknowledging  the  fee  simple  to  be  iu 
Jonathan  forever.  Jm  Km  Paulding. 


LXXIII.—  NO    WORK   THE  HARDEST   WORK 


HO  !  ye  who  at  the  anvil  toil, 
And  strike  the  sounding  blow, 
Where  from  the  burning  iron's  breast 

The  sparks  fly  to  and  fro, 
While  answering  to  the  hammer's  ring, 

And  fire's  intenser  glow,  — 
0,  while  ye  feel  *t  is  hard  to  toil 

And  sweat  the  long  day  through, 
Eemember  it  is  harder  still 

To  have  no  work  to  do. 

ii. 
Ho  !  ye  who  till  the  stubborn  soil, 

Whose  hard  hands  guide  the  plow  ; 
WTho  bend  beneath  the  summer  sun 

With  burning  cheek  and  brow,  — 
Ye  deem  the  curse  still  clings  to  eartt 

From  olden  time  till  now, 
But  while  ye  feel  't  is  hard  to  toil 

And  labor  all  day  through. 
Remember  it  is  harder  still 

To  have  no  work  to  do. 


178  THE   FIFTH   KEADER. 

ill. 
Ho !  ye  who  plough  the  sea's  blue  field, 

Who  ride  the  restless  wave  ; 
Beneath  whose  gallant  vessel's  keel 

There  lies  a  yawning  grave  ; 
Around  whose  bark  the  wintry  winds 

Like  fiends  of  fury  rave,  — 
0,  while  ye  feel  't  is  hard  to  toil 

And  labor  long  hours  through, 
Remember  it  is  harder  still 

To  have  no  work  to  do. 

IV. 

Ho  !  all  who  labor,  all  who  strive, 

Ye  wield  a  lofty  power ; 
Do  with  your  might,  do  with  your  strength. 

Fill  every  golden  hour ! 
The  glorious  privilege  to  do 

Is  man's  most  noble  dower. 
0,  to  your  birthright  and  yourselves, 

To  your  own  souls,  be  true  !  — 
A  weary,  wretched  life  is  theirs 

Who  have  no  work  to  do. 

G.  F.  Ornc. 


LXXI V.  —  INTELLIGENCE  OF  THE  ELEPHANT 

TOU  know  how  a  dog  will  carry  home  a  basket  or  a 
bundle,  and  go  trotting  along  without  anybody  to 
watch  him.  It  is  just  so  with  the  elephant.  When  he  has 
been  trained  to  do  a  certain  work,  he  will  keep  at  it  by 
himself,  and  will  seem  to  take  as  much  interest  in  it,  and 
do  it  as  intelligently,  as  any  man  would  do. 

2.  For  instance,  when  elephants  are  taught  to  pile  logs 
in  a  timber-yard,  in  the  East  Indies,  they  will  go  on  piling 
without  any  command  from  their  masters;  and  they  are 
taught,  when  the  pile  grows  high,  to  lean  two  logs  against 
it,  and  roll  the  remaining  logs  to  the  top.  I  remember  a 
story  told  by  Sir  James  Tennent  which  shows  this  inde- 
pendence of  action  in  the  elephant 


INTELLIGENCE   OF   THE   ELEPHANT.  179 

3.  "  One  evening,"  lie  says,  "  whilst  riding  in  the  vicinity 
of  Kandy,  in  Ceylon,  my  horse  evinced  some  excitement  at 
a  noise  which  approached  us  in  the  thick  jangle,  and  which 
consisted  of  a  repetition  of  the  ejaculation  urmph  I  urmph  ! 
in  a  hoarse  and  dissatisfied  tone.  A  turn  in  the  forest  ex- 
plained the  mystery,  by  bringing  me  face  to  face  with  a 
tame  elephant,  unaccompanied  by  any  attendant. 

4.  "  He  was  laboring  painfully  to  carry  a  heavy  beam  of 
timber,  which  he  balanced  across  his  tusks,  but,  the  path- 
way being  narrow,  he  was  forced  to  bend  his  head  to  one 
side  to  permit  it  to  pass  endways ;  and  the  exertion  and 
inconvenience  combined  led  him  to  utter  the  dissatisfied 
sounds  which  disturbed  the  composure  of  my  horse. 

5.  "  On  seeing  us  halt,  the  elephant  raised  his  head,  re- 
connoitered  us  for  a  moment,  then  flung  down  the  timber 
and  forced  himself  backwards  among  the  brushwood,  so  as 
to  leave  a  passage,  of  which  he  expected  us  to  avail  our- 
selves. My  horse  still  hesitated.  The  elephant  observed 
it,  and  impatiently  thrust  himself  still  deeper  into  the 
jungle,  repeating  his  cry  of  urmph  !  but  in  a  voice  evidently 
meant  to  encourage  us  to  come  on. 

6.  "  Still  the  horse  trembled  ;  and,  anxious  to  observe  the 
instinct  of  the  two  sagacious  creatures,  I  forbore  any  inter- 
ference. Again  the  elephant  wedged  himself  farther  in 
amongst  the  trees,  and  waited  impatiently  for  us  to  pass 
him;  and  after  the  horse  had  done  so  tremblingly  and 
timidly,  I  saw  the  wise  creature  stoop  and  take  up  his 
heavy  burden,  trim  and  balance  it  on  his  tusks,  and  re- 
sume his  work,  hoarsely  snorting,  as  before." 

7.  Now  almost  any  trained  animal,  if  left  alone  to  decide 
for  himself,  in  such  a  case,  would  have  put  down  his  load, 
if  he  could,  and  walked  away.  But  how  like  a  faithful 
and  industrious  man  this  elephant  acted !  As  there  was 
no  room  to  pass,  he  made  way,  waited  for  the  horse, 
encouraged  him  to  come  on,  and  then,  when  he  had  passed, 
took  up  Ms  load  again  and  went  along. 

T.    W«  Higgiiison. 


180  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

LXXV.  —  BLUEBEARD. 

i. 

CENTURIES  since  there  flourished  a  man,  — 
A  cruel  old  Tartar  as  rich  as  the  Khan,  — 
Whose  castle  was  built  on  a  splendid  plan, 

With  gardens  and  groves  and  plantations ; 
But  his  shaggy  beard  was  as  blue  as  the  sky, 
And  he  lived  alone,  for  his  neighbors  were  shy, 
And  had  heard  hard  stories,  by  the  by, 
About  his  domestic  relations. 

ii. 
Just  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  plain 
A  widow  abode  with  her  daughters  twain  ; 
And  one  of  them  —  neither  cross  nor  vain  — 

Was  a  beautiful  little  treasure  ; 
So  he  sent  them  an  invitation  to  tea, 
And,  having  a  natural  wish  to  see 
His  wonderful  castle  and  gardens,  all  three 

Said  they  'd  do  themselves  the  pleasure. 

in. 
As  soon  as  there  happened  a  pleasant  day,. 
They  dressed  themselves  in  a  sumptuous  way, 
And  rode  to  the  castle  as  proud  and  gay 

As  silks  and  jewels  could  make  them  ; 
And  they  were  received  in  the  finest  style, 
And  saw  everything  that  was  worth  their  while, 
In  the  halls  of  Bluebeard's  grand  old  pile, 

Where  he  was  so  kind  as  to  take  them. 

IV. 

The  ladies  were  all  enchanted  quite, 
For  they  found  old  Bluebeard  so  polite 
That  they  did  not  suffer  at  all  from  fright, 

And  frequently  called  thereafter ; 
Then  he  offered  to  marry  the  younger  one, 
And  as  she  was  willing  the  thing  was  done, 
And  celebrated  by  all  the  ton 

With  feasting  and  with  laughter. 


BLUEBEARD.  181 

v. 
As  kind  a  husband  as  ever  was  seen 
Was  Bluebeard  then  for  a  month,  I  ween ; 
And  she  was  as  proud  as  any  queen, 

And  as  happy  as  she  could  be,  too ; 
But  her  husband  called  her  to  him  one  day, 
And  said,  "My  dear,  I  am  going  away; 
It  will  not  be  long  that  I  shall  stay  ; 

There  is  business  for  me  to  see  to. 

VI. 

"  The  keys  of  my  castle  I  leave  with  you ; 

But  if  you  value  my  love,  be  true, 

And  forbear  to  enter  the  Chamber  of  Blue  ! 

Farewell,  Fatima  !     Eemember  !  " 
Fatima  promised  him  ;  then  she  ran 
To  visit  the  rooms  with  her  sister  Ann ; 
But  when  she  had  finished  the  tour,  she  began 

To  think  about  the  Blue  Chamber. 

VII. 

Well,  the  woman  was  curiously  inclined, 
So  she  left  her  sister  and  prudence  behind 
(With  a  little  excuse),  and  started  to  find 

The  mystery  forbidden. 
She  paused  at  the  door ;  —  all  was  still  as  night ! 
She  opened  it ;  then  through  the  dim  blue  light 
There  blistered  her  vision  the  horrible  sight 

That  was  in  that  chamber  hidden. 

VIII. 

The  room  was  gloomy  and  damp  and  wide, 
And  the  floor  was  red  with  the  bloody  tide 
From  headless  women,  laid  side  by  side, 

The  wives  of  her  lord  and  master  ! 
Frightened  and  fainting  she  dropped  the  key, 
But  seized  it  and  lifted  it  quickly ;  then  she 
Hurried  as  swiftly  as  she  could  flee 

From  the  scene  of  the  disaster. 

IX. 

She  tried  to  forget  the  terrible  dead, 

But  shrieked  when  she  saw  that  the  key  was  red, 

And  sickened  and  shook  with  an  awful  dread 


182  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

When  she  heard  Bluebeard  was  coming. 
He  did  not  appear  to  notice  her  pain  ; 
But  he  took  his  keys,  and,  seeing  the  stain, 
He  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  refrain 

That  he  had  been  quietly  humming. 

x. 

"  Mighty  well,  madam  !  "  said  he,  —  "  mighty  well  ! 

What  does  this  little  blood-stain  tell  1 

You  've  broken  your  promise ;  prepare  to  dwell 

With  the  wives  I  've  had  before  you  ! 
You  've  broken  your  promise,  and  you  shall  die." 
Then  Fatima,  supposing  her  death  was  nigh, 
Fell  on  her  knees  and  began  to  cry, 

"  Have  mercy,  I  implore  you I  " 

XI. 

"  No  !  "  shouted  Bluebeard,  drawing  his  sword  ; 
"  You  shall  die  this  very  moment,''  he  roared. 
"  Grant  me  time  to  prepare  to  meet  my  Lord," 

The  terrified  woman  entreated. 
"  Only  ten  minutes,"  he  roared  again ; 
And,  holding  his  watch  by  its  great  gold  chain, 
He  marked  on  the  dial  the  fatal  ten, 

And  retired  till  they  were  completed. 

XII. 

"  Sister,  0  sister,  fly  up  to  the  tower  ! 

Look  for  release  from  this  murderer's  power ! 

Our  brothers  should  be  here  this  very  hour ;  — 

Speak  !    Does  there  come  assistance  1 " 
"  No  ;  I  see  nothing  but  sheep  on  the  hill." 
"  Look  again,  sister  !  "     "I  'm  looking  still, 
But  naught  can  I  see  whether  good  or  ill, 

Save  a  flurry  of  dust  in  the  distance." 

XIII. 

"  Time  's  up  !  "  shouted  Bluebeard,  out  from  his  room  \ 
ht  This  moment  shall  witness  your  terrible  doom, 
And  give  you  a  dwelling  within  the  room 

Whose  secrets  you  have  invaded." 
u  Comes  there  no  help  for  my  terrible  need?" 


BLUEBEARD.  183 

"There  are  horsemen  twain  riding  hither  with  speed." 
•'  0,  tell  them  to  ride  very  fast  indeed, 
Or  I  must  meet  death  unaided  !  " 

XIV. 

"  Time  's  fully  up  !     Xow  have  done  with  your  prayer," 
Shouted  Bluebeard,  swinging  his  sword  on  the  stair  ; 
Then  he  entered,  and,  grasping  her  beautiful  hair, 

Swung  his  glittering  weapon  around  him  ; 
But  a  loud  knock  rang  at  the  castle  gate, 
And  Fatima  was  saved  from  her  horrible  fate, 
For,  shocked  with  surprise,  he  paused  too  late  ; 

And  then  the  two  soldiers  found  him. 

xv. 
They  were  her  brothers,  and,  quick  as  they  knew 
What  the  fiend  was  doing,  their  swords  they  drew, 
And  attacked  him  fiercely,  and  ran  him  through, 

So  that  soon  he  was  mortally  wounded. 
With  a  wild  remorse  was  his  conscience  filled 
When  he  thought  of  the  hapless  wives  he  had  killed ; 
But  quickly  the  last  of  his  blood  was  spilled, 

And  his  dying  groan  was  sounded. 

XVI. 

'T  was  a  private  funeral  Bluebeard  had  ; 

For  the  people  knew  he  was  very  bad, 

And,  though  they  said  nothing,  they  all  were  glad 

For  the  fall  of  the  evil-doer  • 
But  Fatima  first  ordered  some  graves  to  be  made, 
And  there  the  unfortunate  ladies  were  laid, 
And  after  some  painful  months,  with  the  aid 

Of  her  friends,  her  spirits  came  to  her. 

XVII. 

Then  she  cheered  the  hearts  of  the  suffering  poor, 
And  an  acre  of  land  around  each  door, 
And  a  cow,  and  a  couple  of  sheep,  or  more, 

To  her  tenantry  she  granted. 
So  all  of  them  had  enough  to  eat, 
And  their  love  for  her  was  so  complete 
They  would  kiss  the  dust  from  her  little  feet, 

Or  do  anything  she  wanted.  j.  q.  Holla vd 


184  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

LXXVI.  —  ANDROCLES  AND  THE  LION. 

THERE  was  a  certain  slave  named  Androcles,*  who 
was  so  ill-treated  by  his  master  that  his  life  became 
insupportable.  Finding  no  remedy  for  what  he  suffered, 
he  at  length  said  to  himself :  "  It  is  better  to  die  than 
to  continue  to  live  in  such  hardships  and  misery  as  I 
am  obliged  to  suffer.  I  am  determined,  therefore,  to  run 
away  from  my  master.  If  I  am  taken  again,  I  know  that 
I  shall  be  punished  with  a  cruel  death  ;  but  it  is  better  to 
die  at  once  than  to  live  in  misery.  If  I  escape  I  must- 
betake  myself  to  deserts  and  woods  inhabited  only  by  wild 
beasts ;  but  they  cannot  treat  me  more  cruelly  than  I  have 
been  treated  by  my  fellow-creatures ;  therefore,  I  will 
rather  trust  myself  with  them  than  continue  to  be  a 
miserable  slave." 

2.  Having  formed  this  resolution,  he  took  an  opportu- 
nity of  leaving  his  master's  house,  and  hid  himself  in  a 
thick  forest  at  some  miles'  distance  from  the  city.  But 
here  the  unhappy  man  found  that  he  had  only  escaped 
from  one  sort  of  misery  to  experience  another.  He  wan- 
dered about  all  day  through  a  vast  and  trackless  wood, 
where  his  flesh  was  incessantly  torn  by  thorns  and  bram- 
bles. He  grew  hungry,  but  could  find  no  food  in  his 
dreary  solitude.  At  length,  he  was  ready  to  die  with 
fatigue,  and  lay  down  in  despair  in  a  large  cavern  which 
he  accidentally  discovered. 

3.  He  had  not  lain  long  quiet  in  the  cavern,  before  he 
heard  a  dreadful  noise,  which  seemed  to  be  the  roar  of 
some  wild  beast,  and  alarmed  him  very  much.  He  started 
up,  with  a  design  to  escape,  and  had  already  reached  the 
mouth  of  the  cave,  Avhen  he  saw  coming  towards  him  a. 
lion  of  prodigious  size,  who  prevented  any  possibility  of 
retreat.  The  terrified  man  now  believed  his  destruction  to 
be  inevitable ;  but  to  his  great  astonishment,  the  beast 
advanced  towards  him  with  a  gentle   pace,  without  any 

*  Pronounced  An'dro-cleez. 


ANDROCLES  AND   THE   LION.  185 

mark  of  enmity  or  rage,  and  uttered  a  mournful  sound,  as 
though  demanding  the  assistance  of  the  man. 

4.  Androcles,  who  was  naturally  brave,  acquired  courage 
from  this  circumstance,  to  examine  the  immense  creature. 
He  saw  as  the  lion  approached  him,  that  he  seemed  to  limp 
upon  one  of  his  legs,  and  that  the  foot  was  extremely 
swelled,  as  though  it  had  been  wounded.  Acquiring  still 
more  fortitude  from  the  gentle  demeanor  of  the  beast,  he 
advanced  up  to  him,  and  took  hold  of  the  wounded  paw, 
as  a  surgeon  would  examine  the  hand  of  a  patient.  He 
then  perceived  that  a  thorn  of  uncommon  size  had  pene- 
trated the  ball  of  the  foot,  and  was  the  occasion  of  the 
swelling  and  lameness  which  he  had  noticed. 

5.  Androcles  found  that  the  beast,  far  from  resenting  his 
familiarity,  received  it  with  the  utmost  gentleness,  and 
seemed  by  his  actions  to  invite  him  to  proceed.  He  there- 
fore extracted  the  thorn,  and,  pressing  the  swelling,  dis- 
charged a  considerable  quantity  of  matter,  which  had  been 
the  cause  of  so  much  pain  and  uneasiness. 

6.  As  soon  as  the  beast  felt  himself  relieved,  he  began 
to  testify  his  joy  and  gratitude  by  every  expression  within 
his  power.  He  jumped  about  like  a  playful  spaniel, 
wagged  his  enormous  tail,  and  licked  the  feet  and  hands 
of  his  physician.  Nor  was  he  contented  with  these  demon- 
strations of  kindness.  From  this  moment  Androcles  be- 
came his  guest ;  nor  did  the  lion  ever  sally  forth  in  quest 
of  prey  without  bringing  home  the  produce  of  his  chase, 
and  sharing  it  with  his  friend. 

7.  Tn  this  savage  state  of  hospitality  did  the  man  con- 
tinue to  live  during  several  months.  At  length,  wandering 
unguardedly  through  the  woods,  he  met  with  a  company 
of  soldiers  sent  out  to  apprehend  him,  and  was  taken  pris- 
oner, and  conducted  back  to  his  master. 

8.  The  laws  of  that  country  being  very  severe  against 
slaves,  he  was  tried,  and  found  guilty  of  having  fled  from 
his  master ;  and  as  a  punishment  for  this  pretended  crime, 
he  was  sentenced  to  be  torn  in  pieces  by  a  furious  lion, 


186  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

kept  many  days  without  food,  to  inspire  him  with  addi- 
tional rage. 

9.  When  the  destined  moment  arrived,  the  unhappy 
man  was  exposed,  in  the  midst  of  a  spacious  area,  enclosed 
on  every  side,  around  which  many  thousand  people  were 
assembled  to  view  the  mournful  spectacle. 

10.  Presently  a  dreadful  yell  was  heard,  which  struck 
the  spectators  with  horror ;  and  an  immense  lion  rushed 
out  of  the  den,  which  was  purposely  set  open.  The  brute 
darted  forward  with  erected  mane  and  flaming  eyes,  and 
jaws  that  gaped  like  an  open  sepulcher. 

11.  A  mournful  silence  instantly  prevailed  !  All  eyes 
were  turned  upon  the  destined  victim,  whose  destruction 
now  appeared  inevitable.  But  the  pity  of  the  multitude 
was  soon  converted  into  astonishment  when  they  beheld 
the  lion,  instead  of  destroying  his  defenceless  prey,  crouch 
submissively  at  his  feet,  fawn  upon  him  as  a  faithful  dog 
would  fawn  upon  his  master,  and  rejoice  over  him  as  a 
mother  that  unexpectedly  recovers  her  offspring. 

12.  The  governor  of  the  town,  who  was  present,  then 
called  out  with  a  loud  voice,  and  ordered  Androcles  to 
explain  to  them  this  mystery,  and  how  a  savage  of  the 
fiercest  nature  should  thus  in  a  moment  have  forgotten 
his  innate  disposition,  and  be  converted  into  a  harmless 
animal. 

13.  Androcles  then  related  to  the  assembly  every  cir- 
cumstance of  his  late  adventures,  and  concluded  by  saying 
that  the  very  lion  which  now  stood  before  them  had  been 
his  friend  and  entertainer  in  the  woods. 

14.  All  the  persons  present  were  astonished  and  de- 
lighted with  the  story,  to  find  that  even  the  fiercest  beasts 
are  capable  of  being  softened  by  gratitude  and  moved  by 
humanity  ;  and  they  unanimously  joined  to  entreat  from 
the  governor  the  pardon  of  the  unhappy  man.  This  was 
immediately  granted  ;  and  Androcles  was  also  presented 
with  the  lion,  who  had  in  this  manner  twice  saved  his  life. 

TJwmas  Day. 


SOLOMON   AND  THE  BEES.  187 


LXXVIL  —  SOLOMON  AJVD   THE  BEES. 

x. 

WHEN  Solomon  was  reigning  in  his  glory, 
Unto  his  throne  the  Qneen  of  Sheba  came 
(So  in  the  Talmnd  yon  may  read  the  story), 

Drawn  by  the  magic  of  the  monarch's  fame, 
To  see  the  splendors  of  his  conrt,  and  bring 
Some  fitting  tribute  to  the  mighty  king. 


188  THR.  FIFTH   EEADER. 

II. 

Nor  this  alone  :  much  had  her  Highness  heard 
What  flowers  of  learning  graced  the  royal  speech  ; 

What  gems  of  wisdom  dropped  with  every  word ; 
What  wholesome  lessons  he  wxas  wont  to  teach 

In  pleasing  proverbs ;  and  she  wushed,  in  sooth, 

To  know  if  Rumor  spoke  the  simple  truth. 

in. 

And  straight  she  held  before  the  monarch's  view, 
In  either  hand,  a  radiant  wreath  of  flowers ; 

The  one,  bedecked  with  every  charming  hue, 

Was  newly  culled  from  Nature's  choicest  bowers ; 

The  other,  no  less  fair  in  every  part, 

Was  the  rare  product  of  divinest  Art. 

IV. 

"  Which  is  the  true,  and  which  the  false  1 "  she  said. 

Great  Solomon  was  silent.     All  amazed, 
Each  wondering  courtier  shook  his  puzzled  head  ; 

While  at  the  garlands  long  the  monarch  gazed, 
As  one  who  sees  a  miracle,  and  fain, 
For  very  rapture,  ne'er  would  speak  again. 

v. 

"  Which  is  the  true  ] "  once  more  the  woman  asked, 
Pleased  at  the  fond  amazement  of  the  king ; 

"  So  wise  a  head  should  not  be  hardly  tasked, 
Most  learned  Liege,  with  such  a  trivial  thing ! " 

But  still  the  sage  was  silent ;  it  was  plain 

A  deepening  doubt  perplexed  the  royal  brain. 

VI. 

While  thus  he  pondered,  presently  he  sees, 

Hard  by  the  casement,  —  so  the  story  goes,  — 

A  little  band  of  busy,  bustling  bees, 
Hunting  for  honey  in  a  withered  rose. 

The  monarch  smiled,  and  raised  his  royal  head ; 
"  Open  the  window  !  "  —  that  was  all  he  said. 


THE  EARTH'S  JOURNEY  ROUND  THE  SUN.     189 

VII. 

The  window  opened  at  the  King's  command ; 

Within  the  rooms  the  eager  insects  flew, 
And  sought  the  flowers  in  Sheba's  dexter  hand  ! 

And  so  the  king  and  all  the  courtiers  knew 
That  wreath  was  Nature's  ;  —  and  the  baffled  queen 
Returned  to  tell  the  wonders  she  had  seen. 

VIII. 

My  story  teaches  (every  tale  should  bear 

A  fitting  moral)  that  the  wise  may  find 
In  trifles  light  as  atoms  in  the  air 

Some  useful  lesson  to  enrich  the  mind,  — 
Some  truth  designed  to  profit  or  to  please, 
As  Israel's  king  learned  wisdom  from  the  bees  ! 

John  G-  Saxe. 


LXXYIIL  —  THJE  EARTH'S  JOURNEY  ROUND 

THE  SUN. 

OjSTE,  two,  three,  four,  five  !  Does  the  reader  know 
that  while  he  has  been  counting  these  five  beats,  five 
seconds,  he  has  actually  been  conveyed  through  space  a 
distance  of  more  than  a  hundred  miles  ?  Yet  so  it  is. 
However  incredible  it  may  seem,  no  fact  is  more  certain 
than  that  the  earth  is  constantly  on  the  wing,  flying  around 
the  sun  with  a  velocity  so  prodigious  that  for  every  breath 
we  draw  we  advance  on  our  way  forty  or  fifty  miles. 

2.  If,  when  passing  across  the  waters  in  a  steamboat, 
we  can  wake,  after  a  night's  repose,  and  find  ourselves 
conducted  on  our  voyage  a  hundred  miles,  we  exult  in  the 
triumphs  of  art,  which  lias  moved  so  ponderous  a  body 
as  a  steam-ship  over  such  a  space  in  so  short  a  time,  and  so 
quietly,  too,  as  not  to  disturb  our  slumbers.  But,  with  a 
motion  vastly  more  quiet  and  uniform,  we  have,  in  the 
same  interval,  been  carried  along  with  the  earth  in  its  orbit 
more  than  half  a  million  of  miles. 

3.  In  the  case  of  the  steam-ship,  however  perfect  the 
machinery  may  be,  we  still,  in  our  waking  hours  at  least, 


190  THE   FIFTH   READEK. 

are  made  sensible  of  the  action  of  the  forces  by  which  the 
motion  is  maintained,  —  as  the  roaring  of  the  fire,  the 
beating  of  the  piston,  and  the  dashing  of  the  paddle-wheels  ; 
but  in  the  more  perfect  machinery  which  carries  the  earth 
forward  on  its  grander  voyage,  no  sound  is  heard,  nor  the 
least  intimation  afforded  of  the  stupendous  forces  by  which 
this  motion  is  achieved. 

4.  The  distance  of  the  sun  from  the  earth  is  about 
ninety-five  millions  of  miles.  No  human  mind  can  com- 
prehend fully  what  this  vast  distance  means.  But  we  may 
form  some  conception  of  it  by  such  an  illustration  as  this : 
A  ship  may  leave  Liverpool  and  cross  the  Atlantic  to  New 
York  after  twenty  days'  steady  sail;  but  it  would  take 
that  ship,  moving  constantly  at  the  rate  of  ten  miles  an 
hour,  more  than  a  thousand  years  to  reach  the  sun. 

5.  And  yet,  at  this  vast  distance,  the  sun,  by  his  power 
of  attraction,  serves  as  the  great  regulator  of  the  planetary 
motions,  bending  them  continually  from  the  straight  line 
in  which  they  tend  to  move,  and  compelling  them  to  circu- 
late around  him,  each  at  nearly  a  uniform  distance,  and 
all  in  perfect  harmony. 

6.  Let  us  reflect  for  a  moment  upon  the  wonderful  force 
which  the  sun  must  put  forth  to  bend  out  of  their  courses 
into  circular  orbits  such  a  number  of  planets,  some  of  them 
more  than  a  thousand  times  larger  than  the  earth.  Were 
a  ship  of  war  under  full  sail,  we  can  easily  imagine  what 
a  force  it  would  require  to  turn  her  from  her  course  by  a 
rope  attached  to  her  bow,  —  especially  were  it  required  that 
the  force  should  remain  stationary,  and  the  ship  be  so  held 
as  to  be  made  to  go  round  the  force  as  round  a  center. 

7.  Somewhat  similar  to  this,  but  on  a  much  grandei 
scale,  is  the  action  which  is  exerted  on  the  earth  in  its 
journey  round  the  sun.  By  an  invisible  influence,  which 
is  called  gravitation,  the  sun  turns  all  the  planets  out  of 
their  course,  and  bends  them  into  a  circular  orbit  round 
himself,  though  they  are  all  many  million  of  times  more 
ponderous  than  the  ship,  and  are  moving  many  thousand 
times  more  swiftly. 


OVER   THE   HILL.  19! 

LXXIX.—  OVER    THE  HILL, 

i. 

TRAVELER,  what  lies  over  the  hill? 
Traveler,  tell  to  me  : 
I  am  only  a  child,  —  from  the  window-sill 
Over  I  cannot  see." 

ii. 
"Child,  there  's  a  valley  over  there, 

Pretty  and  wooded  and  shy ; 
And  a  little  brook  that  says,   '  Take  care, 

Or  I  '11  drown  you  by  and  by.' " 

in. 
''  And  what  comes  next  I  "    "  A  little  town. 

And  a  towering  hill  again ; 
More  hills  and  valleys,  up  and  down, 

And  a  river  now  and  then." 

IV. 

" And  what  comes  next V    "A  lonely  moor 

Without  a  beaten  way  ; 
And  gray  clouds  sailing  slow  before 

A  wind  that  will  not  stay." 

v. 
"  And  then  1"     "  Dark  rocks  and  yellow  sand, 

And  a  moaning  sea  beside." 
"  And  then  1 "     "  More  sea,  more  sea,  more  land, 

And  rivers  deep  and  wide." 

VI. 

"And  then  ?"    "  0,  rock  and  mountain  and  vale 

Rivers  and  fields  and  men, 
Over  and  over  —  a  weary  tale  — 

And  round  to  your  home  again." 

VII. 

"And  is  that  all?    Have  you  told  the  best?" 

"  No,  neither  the  best  nor  the  end. 
On  summer  eves,  away  in  the  west, 

You  will  see  a  stair  ascend, 


192  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

VIII. 

"  Built  of  all  colors  of  lovely  stones,  — 

A  stair  up  into  the  sky, 
Where  no  one  is  weary,  and  no  one  moans, 

Or  wants  to  be  laid  by." 

IX. 

"  I  will  go."     "  But  the  steps  are  very  steep ; 

If  you  would  climb  up  there, 
You  must  lie  at  the  foot,  as  still  as  sleep, 

A  very  step  of  the  stair." 

MacDonald. 


LXXX.  —  TOM  BROWN  STARTING  FOR  RUGBY. 

/^  EEAT  was  the  grief  amongst  the  village  school-boys 
yJT  when  Tom  Brown  drove  off  with  the  Squire  one 
August  morning  to  meet  the  coach  on  his  way  to  school 
at  Eugby.  Each  of  them  had  given  him  some  little  pres- 
ent of  the  best  that  he  had,  and  his  small  private  oox  was 
full  of  peg-tops,  white  marbles,  screws,  birds'  eggs,  whip- 
cord, jews-harps,  and  other  miscellaneous  boys'  wealth. 

2.  Poor  Jacob  Doodle-calf,  in  floods  of  tears,  had  pressed 
upon  him  with  spluttering  earnestness  his  lame  pet  hedge- 
hog (he  had  always  some  poor  broken-down  beast  or  bird 
by  him) ;  but  this  Tom  had  been  obliged  to  refuse  by  the 
Squire's  order. 

3.  He  had  given  them  all  a  great  tea  under  the  big  elm 
in  their  play-ground,  for  which  Madam  Brown  had  supplied 
the  biggest  cake  ever  seen  in  our  village  ;  and  Tom  was  really 
as  sorry  to  leave  them  as  they  to  lose  him,  but  his  sorrow 
was  not  unmixed  with  the  pride  and  excitement  of  making 
a  new  step  in  life. 

4.  Tom  and  his  father  had  alighted  at  the  Peacock  Inn, 
London,  at  about  seven  in  the  evening,  and  having  heard 
with  unfeigned  joy  the  paternal  order  for  supper,  and  seen 
his  father  seated  cozily  by  the  bright  fire  in  the  coffee-room, 
with  the  paper  in  his  hand,  Tom  had  run  out  to  see  about 


TOM   BROWN   STARTING   FOR   RUGBY.  193 

him,  bad  wondered  at  all  the  vehicles  passing  and  repassing, 
and  had  fraternized  with  the  boots  and  hostler,  from  whom 
be  ascertained  that  the  Tally-ho  coach  was  a  tiptop  goer, 
ten  miles  an  hour  including  stoppages,  and  so  punctual  that 
all  the  road  set  their  clocks  by  her. 

5.  Then,  being  summoned  to  supper,  he  had  regaled  him- 
self on  beef-steak  and  oyster-sauce ;  had  at  first  attended  to 
the  excellent  advice  his  father  gave  him  ;  and  then  began 
nodding,  from  the  united  effects  of  the  supper,  the  fire,  and 
the  lecture ;  till  the  Squire,  observing  Tom's  state,  and  re- 
membering thai  it  was  nearly  nine  o'clock,  and  that  the 
Tally-ho  left  at  three,  sent  the  little  fellow  to  bed,  with  a 
shake  of  the  hand  and  a  few  parting  words. 

6.  "  And  now,  Tom,  my  boy,"  said  the  Squire,  "  remem- 
ber you  are  going,  at  your  own  earnest  request,  to  be 
chucked  into  this  great  school,  like  a  young  bear,  with  all 
your  troubles  before  you,  earlier  than  we  should  have  sent 
you  perhaps.  If  schools  are  what  they  were  in  my  time, 
you  '11  see  a  great  many  cruel,  blackguard  things  done,  and 
hear  a  deal  of  foul,  bad  talk.  But  never  fear.  You  tell 
the  truth,  keep  a  brave  and  kind  heart,  and  never  listen  to 
or  say  anything  you  would  n't  have  your  mother  and  sister 
hear,  and  you  '11  never  feel  ashamed  to  come  home,  or  we 
to  see  you." 

7.  The  allusion  to  his  mother  made  Tom  feel  rather 
choky,  and  he  would  have  liked  to  hug  his  father  well* 
As  it  was,  he  only  squeezed  his  father's  hand,  and  looked 
bravely  up  and  said,  "  I  '11  try,  father." 

8.  "  I  know  you  will,  my  boy.  Is  your  money  all 
safe  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  diving  into  one  pocket  to  make  sure. 

9.  "  And  your  keys  ?  "  said  the  Squire. 

"  All  right,"  said  Tom,  diving  into  the  other. 

10.  "  Well,  then,  good  night.  God  bless  you  !  1 11  tell 
Boots  to  call  you,  and  be  up  to  see  you  off." 

11.  Tom  was  carried  off  by  the  chambermaid  to  a  clean 
little  attic  ;    and,  still  thinking  of  his  father's  last  words, 


194  THE  FIFTH   READEK. 

and  the  look  with  which  they  were  spoken,  he  knelt  down 
and  prayed,  that  come  what  might,  he  might  never  bring 
shame  or  sorrow  on  the  dear  folks  at  home. 

12.  Indeed,  the  Squire's  last  words  deserved  to  have 
.their  effect,  for  they  had  been  the  result  of  much  anxious 
thought.  All  the  way  up  to  London  he  had  pondered  what 
he  should  say  to  Tom  by  way  of  parting  advice,  —  some- 
thing that  the  boy  could  keep  in  his  head  ready  for  use. 

13.  To  condense  the  Squire's  meditation,  it  was  some- 
what as  follows  :  "  I  won't  tell  him  to  read  his  Bible,  and 
love  and  serve  God;  if  he  don't  do  that  for  his  mother's 
sake  and  teaching,  he  won't  for  mine. 

14.  "  Shall  I  go  into  the  sort  of  temptations  he  11  meet 
with  ?  No,  I  can't  do  that.  Never  do  for  an  old  fellow  to 
go  into  such  things  with  a  boy.  He  won't  understand  me. 
Do  him  more  harm  than  good,  ten  to  one. 

15.  "  Shall  I  tell  him  to  mind  his  work,  and  say  he's 
sent  to  school  to  make  himself  a  good  scholar  ?  Well,  but 
he  is  n't  sent  to  school  for  that,  —  at  any  rate,  not  for  that 
mainly.  I  don't  care  a  straw  for  Greek  particles,  or  the 
digamma ;  no  more  does  his  mother. 

16.  "What  is  he  sent  to  school  for  ?  Well,  partly  be- 
cause he  wanted  to  go.  If  he  '11  only  turn  out  a  brave, 
helpful,  truth-telling  man,  and  a  gentleman,  and  a  Chris- 
tian, that 's  all  I  want,"  thought  the  Squire ;  and  upon  this 
view  of  the  case  framed  his  last  words  of  advice  to  Tom, 
which  were  well  enough  suited  to  their  purpose. 

17.  For  they  were  Tom's  first  thoughts  as  he  tumbled  out 
of  bed  at  the  summons  of  Boots,  and  proceeded  rapidly  to 
wash  and  dress  himself.  At  ten  minutes  to  three  he  was 
down  in  the  coffee-room  in  his  stockings,  carrying  his  hat- 
box,  coat,  and  comforter  in  his  hand  ;  and  there  he  found 
his  father  nursing  a  bright  fire,  and  a  cup  of  hot  coffee  and 
a  hard  biscuit  on  the  table. 

18.  "  Now,  then,  Tom,  give  us  your  things  here,  and  drink 
that ;  there  's  nothing  like  starting  warm,  old  fellow." 

19.  Tom  addressed  himself  to  the  coffee,  and  prattled 


TOM   BROWN   STARTING   FOR   RUGBY.  195 

away  while  he  worked  himself  into  his  shoes  and  his 
great-coat,  well  warmed  through.  And  just  as  he  is 
swallowing  his  last  mouthful,  winding  his  comforter  round 
his  throat,  and  tucking  the  ends  into  the  breast  of  his  coat, 
the  horn  sounds,  Boots  looks  in  and  says,  "  Tally-ho,  sir  "  ; 
and  they  hear  the  ring  and  the  rattle  of  the  four  fast  trot- 
ters and  the  town-made  drag,  as  it  dashes  up  to  the  inn. 

20.  "  Anything  for  us,  Bob  ?  "  says  the  burly  guard,  drop- 
ping down  from  behind,  and  slapping  himself  across  the  chest. 

21.  "Young  genl'm'n,  Rugby;  three  parcels,  Leicester; 
hamper  o'  game,  Rugby,"  answers  hostler. 

,  22.  "  Tell  young  gent  to  look  alive,"  says  Guard,  opening 
the  hind-boot,  and  shooting  in  the  parcels  after  examining 
them  by  the  lamps.  "  Here,  shove  the  portmanteau  up  a- 
top,  —  I  '11  fasten  him  presently.  Now  then,  sir,  jump  up 
behind." 

23.  "  Good-by,  father,  —  my  love  at  home."  A  last  shake 
of  the  hand.  Up  goes  Tom,  the  guard  catching  his  hat-box 
and  holding  on  with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  claps 
his  horn  to  his  mouth,  Toot,  toot,  toot !  the  hostler  lets  go 
their  heads,  the  four  bays  plunge  at  the  collar,  and  away  goes 
the  Tally-ho,  forty-five  seconds  from  the  time  they  pulled 

UP-  T.  Hughes. 

EXERCISE. 

1.  Great  was  the  grief  amongst  the  village  school-boys. 

2.  Each  of  them  had  given  him  some  little  present. 

3.  Madame  Brown  had  supplied  the  biggest  cake  ever  seen  in  our 

village. 

4.  Tom  and  his  father  alighted  at  the  inn. 

5.  He  heard  with  unfeigned  joy  the  paternal  order  for  supper. 

6.  He  ivondered  at  all  the  vehicles  passing. 

7.  He  fraternized  with  the  boots  and  hostler. 

8.  He  ascertained  that  the  coach  was  a  tiptop  goer. 

9.  Being  summoned  to  supper  he  regaled  himself  on  beef-steak  and 

oyster-sauce. 
,   10.  You  are  going  to  be  chucked  into  this  great  school. 

11-  All  the  way  up  to  London  he  had  pondered  what  he  should  say 
to  Tom. 


X96  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

LXXXI.  —  THE  KNIGHTS  TOAST, 

i. 

THE  feast  is  o'er !     Now  brimming  wine 
In  lordly  cup  is  seen  to  shine 
Before  each  eager  guest ; 
And  silence  fills  the  crowded  hall, 
As  deep  as  when  the  herald's  call 
Thrills  in  the  loyal  breast. 

II. 
Then  up  arose  the  noble  host, 
And  smiling  cried  :  "A  toast  !  a  toast ! 

To  all  our  ladies  fair  ! 
Here,  before  all,  I  pledge  the  name 
Of  Staunton's  proud  and  beauteous  dame,  - 

The  Lady  Gmidamere  !  " 

in. 
Then  to  his  feet  each  gallant  sprung, 
And  joyous  was  the  shout  that  rung, 

As  Stanley  gave  the  word  ■ 
And  every  cup  was  raised  on  high, 
Nor  ceased  the  loud  and  gladsome  cry, 

Till  Stanley's  voice  was  heard. 

IV. 

"  Enough,  enough,"  he  smiling  said, 
And  lowly  bent  his  haughty  head  • 

"  That  all  may  have  their  due, 
Now  each,  in  turn,  must  play  his  part, 
And  pledge  the  lady  of  his  heart, 

Like  gallant  knight  and  true  ! " 

v. 

Then,  one  by  one,  each  guest  sprang  up, 
And  drained  in  turn  the  brimming  cup, 

And  named  the  loved  one's  name  ; 
And  each,  as  hand  on  high  he  raised, 
His  lady's  grace  or  beauty  praised, 

Her  constancy  and  fame. 


THE   KNIGHT'S   TOAST.  197 

VI. 

T  is  now  St.  Leon's  turn  to  rise  ; 

On  him  are  fixed  those  countless  eyes ;  — 

A  gallant  knight  is  he  ; 
Envied  by  some,  admired  by  all, 
Far  famed  in  lady's  bower,  and  hall,  — 

The  flower  of  chivalry. 

VII. 

St.  Leon  raised' his  kindling  eye, 
And  lifts  the  sparkling  cup  on  high  : 

"  I  drink  to  one"  he  said, 
"  Whose  image  never  may  depart, 
Deep  graven  on  this  grateful  heart, 

Till  memory  be  dead. 

VIII. 

"  To  one  whose  love  for  me  shall  last 
When  lighter  passions  long  have  past, 

So  holy  't  is  and  true ; 
To  one  whose  love  hath  longer  dwelt, 
More  deeply  fixed,  more  keenly  felt, 

Than  any  pledged  by  you." 

IX. 

Each  guest  upstarted  at  the  word, 
And  laid  a  hand  upon  his  sword, 

With  fury-flashing  eye  ; 
And  Stanley  said  :  "We  crave  the  name* 
Proud  knight,  of  this  most  peerless  dame 

Whose  love  you  count  so  high." 

x. 

St.  Leon  paused,  as  if  he  would 

Not  breathe  her  name  in  careless  mood, 

Thus,  lightly,  to  another  ; 
Then  bent  his  noble  head,  as  though 
To  give  that  word  the  reverence  due, 
.  And  gently  said  :  "  My  Mother  !  " 


198  THE  FIFTH   KEADEK. 


LXXXII.  —  HEALTH. 


HEALTH  is  a  blessing  so  invaluable  that  you  cannot 
be  too  careful  in  preserving  it.  It  is  that  which 
makes  your  meat  and  drink  savory,  and  your  sleep  refresh- 
ing ;  which  gives  bloom  to  your  cheek  and  suppleness  t 
your  limbs,  and  renders  active  exertion  a  delight.  When 
health  deserts  you,  food  loses  its  relish,  and  exercise  be- 
comes a  toil.  Sleep  refuses  to  lull  •  you  into  sweet  forget- 
fulness  ;  and  you  leave  your  couch  —  if,  indeed,  you  are  ever 
able  to  leave  it  —  tired  and  unrefreshed.  You  are  feeble, 
spiritless,  despondent.     Life  itself  becomes  a  burden. 

2.  Three  things  are  especially  necessary  to  the  preserva- 
tion of  health,  —  pure  air,  due  exercise,  and  cleanliness. 

3.  In  breathing,  you  first  draw  air  into  the  lungs,  and 
then  send  it  out  from  them.  But  when  it  returns  from  the 
lungs,  it  is  not  in  the  same  state  as  when  it  entered.  Nearly 
two  fifths  of  that  portion  of  it  which  is  of  the  most  value  in 
sustaining  life  has  disappeared,  and  its  place  has  been  sup- 
plied by  an  equal  volume  of  what  is  positively  injurious. 
If  the  same  air  is  breathed  again  and  again,  it  at  last 
becomes  altogether  incapable  of  supporting  life. 

4.  Accordingly,  it  is  found  that  the  air  of  a  close  room 
in  which  any  considerable  number  of  persons  are  assembled 
soon  becomes  noxious,  while  even  the  breath  of  a  single 
person  is  sufficient,  after  a  time,  to  make  such  a  room 
unwholesome.  Those  who  labor  in  confined  and  crowded 
workshops  are  neither  so  long-lived  nor  so  healthy  as  those 
who  work  in  airy  buildings ;  and  in  the  open  country  the 
average  duration  of  human  life  exceeds  that  in  the  towns 
by  at  least  sixteen  years. 

5.  You  may  have  heard  of  the  horrible  suffering  which 
was  endured  in  the  Black  Hole  of  Calcutta,  in  1756.  One 
hundred  and  forty-six  Englishmen  were  thrust  into  a 
wretched  prison  eighteen  feet  square,  in  winch  there  were 
only  two  very  small  windows  by  which  air  could  be  ad- 
mitted.    Scarcely  was  the  door  shut   upon  the  prisoners 


HEALTH.  199 

when  their  sufferings  commenced,  and  in  a  short  time  a 
delirious  and  mortal  struggle  ensued  to  get  near  the  win- 
dows. "Within  four  hours  those  who  survived  lay  in  the 
silence  of  apoplectic  stupor;  at  the  end  of  six  hours  ninety- 
six  were  relieved  by  death ;  and  in  the  morning,  when  the 
door  was  opened,  twenty-three  only  were  found  alive,  many 
of  whom  were  subsequently  cut  off  by  putrid  fever  caused 
by  the  dreadful  corruption  of  the  air. 

6.  Exercise  is  highly  conducive  to  health,  especially 
when  taken  out  of  doors.  By  means  of  walking,  riding, 
boating,  and  the  various  manly  sports,  the  chest  is  ex- 
panded, the  muscles  strengthened,  the  blood  more  briskly 
circulated,  and  the  pores  of  the  skin  kept  open.  Yet  it 
should  be  remembered  that  exercise  never  ought  to  be 
taken  to  the  extent  of  causing  exhaustion,  and  that  the 
risk  of  a  sudden  chill  after  copious  perspiration  should  be 
carefully  avoided. 

7.  The  necessity  of  cleanliness  arises  from  the  peculiar 
structure  of  the  skin.  It  is  said  that  there  are  seven  mil- 
lions of  pores  in  the  skin,  and  that  these  pores  are  the  ori- 
fices or  mouths  of  tubes  intended  to  carry  off  effete  matter 
from  the  body.  Yet  they  are  constantly  liable  to  be  closed 
and  obstructed.  It  thus  happens  that  in  the  course  of  a 
day  the  whole  skin  becomes  so  coated  with  impurities  that 
its  pores  get  clogged,  and  cease  to  permit  the  free  passage 
which  is  required  of  them.  How  is  this  coating  to  be 
removed?  Only,  it  is  obvious,  by  frequent  ablution  or 
washing. 

8.  u  The  canary,"  says  Professor  Miller,  "  teaches  us  two 
good  lessons.  The  bird  whistles  in  its  captivity,  preaching 
contentment ;  and  it  carefully  washes  itself.  What  is  the 
most  precious  gift  you  can  make  to  a  canary  ?  A  saucer 
with  some  clean  water.  In  it  hops  with  a  chirp;  and, 
spluttering  with  its  wings,  how  it  enjoys  its  bath !  Well, 
we,  too,  can  always  have  a  saucerful  of  clean  water  with 
a  sponge ;   and   the   man,  if   he  will,  can   then   make  a 

plutter  of  it,  like  the  canary." 


200  THE   J^IFTH   READER. 


M 


LXXXIII.  —  CLEAR  THE  WAY. 

FIRST    VOICE. 

EN  of  thought !  be  up  and  stirring,  night  and  day  : 
Sow  the  seed, — withdraw  the  curtain, — clear  the  way  ; 


SECOND    VOICE. 

Men  of  action,  aid  and  cheer  them,  as  ye  may ! 

There  's  a  fount  about  to  stream, 

There  's  a  light  about  to  beam, 

There  's  a  warmth  about  to  glow, 

There 's  a  flower  about  to  blow  ; 
There's  a  midnight  blackness  changing  into  gray. 

FIRST    VOICE. 

Men  of  thought  and  men  of  action,  clear  the  way  ! 

THIRD    VOICE. 

Once  the  welcome  light  has  broken,  who  shall  say 
What  the  unimagined  glories  of  the  day  1 
What  the  evil  that  shall  perish  in  its  ray  ? 

FOURTH    VOICE. 

Aid  the  dawning,  tongue  and  pen  ; 
Aid  it,  hopes  of  honest  men  ; 
Aid  it,  paper;  aid  it,  type ; 
Aid  it,  for  the  hour  is  ripe, 
And  our  earnest  must  not  slacken  into  play. 

FIRST    VOICE. 

Men  of  thought  and  men  of  action,  clear  the  way  ! 

SECOND    VOICE. 

Lo  !  a  cloud  's  about  to  vanish  from  the  day ; 

And  a  brazen  wrong  to  crumble  into  clay. 

Lo  !  the  right 's  about  to  conquer  :  clear  the  way  ! 

THIRD    VOICE. 

With  the  right  shall  many  more 
Enter  smiling  at  the  door ; 
With  the  giant  wrong  shall  fall 
Many  others,  great  and  small, 
That  for  ages  long  have  held  us  for  their  prey. 

ALL. 

Men  of  thought  and  men  of  action,  clear  the  way  ! 

Charles  MacJcay. 


THE   CHAMPION   SPELLER.  201 

LXXXIV.-T^  CHAMPION  SPELLER. 

THE  most  extraordinary  spelling,  and,  indeed,  reading 
machine  in  our  school  was  a  boy  whom  I  shall  call 
Mem'orus  Wordwell.  He  was  mighty  and  wonderful  in 
the  acquisition  and  remembrance  of  words,  —  of  signs  with- 
out the  ideas  signified.  The  alphabet  he  acquired  at  home 
before  he  was  two  years  old.  What  exultation  of  parents, 
what  exclamation  from  admiring  visitors  !  "  There  was 
never  anything  like  it." 

2.  He  had  almost  accomplished  his  a-b,  abs,  before  he 
was  thought  old  enough  for  school.  At  an  earlier  age  than 
usual,  .however,  he  was  sent ;  and  then  he  went  from  Ache 
to  Abomination  in  half  the  summers  and  winters  it  took 
the  rest  of  us  to  go  over  the  same  space.  It  was  astonish- 
ing how  quickly  he  mastered  column  after  column,  section 
after  section,  of  obstinate  orthographies. 

3.  Those  martial  terms  I  have  just  used,  together  with 
our  hero's  celerity,  put  me  in  mind  of  Qesar;  so  I  will 
quote  him.  Memorus  might  have  said,  in  respect  to  the 
hosts  of  the  spelling-book,  "  I  came,  I  saw,  I  conquered." 
He  generally  stood  at  the  head  of  a  class  every  member 
of  which  was  two  years  his  elder.  Poor  creatures  !  they 
studied  hard,  some  of  them,  but  it  did  no  good ;  Memorus 
Wordwell  was  born  to  be  above  them,  as  some  men  are 
said  to  have  been  "  born  to  command." 

4.  Master  Wordwell  was  a  remarkable  reader,  too. 
When  but  five  years  old  he  could  rattle  off  a  word  as 
extensive  as  the  name  of  a  Eussian  noble  as  easily  as  the 
schoolmaster  himself.  "  He  can  read  in  the  hardest  chap- 
ters of  the  Testament  as  fast  ag'in  as  I  can,"  said  Ms 
mother.  "  I  never  did  see  anything  beat  it ! "  exclaimed 
his  father ;  "  he  speaks  up  as  loud  as  a  minister." 

5.  But  I  have  said  enough  about  this  prodigy.  I  have 
said  thus  much  because,  although  he  was  thought  so  sur- 
passingly bright,  he  was  the  most  decided  ninny  in  the 
school.     The  fact  is,  he  did  not  know  what  the  sounds  he 


202  THE  FIFTH   HEADER. 

uttered  meant.  It  never  entered  his  head,  nor  the  heads 
of  his  parents  and  most  of  his  teachers,  that  words  and 
sentences  were  written,  and  should  be  read,  only  to  be 
understood. 

6.  One  little  anecdote  about  Memorus  Word  well  before 
we  let  him  go.  It  happened  one  day  that  the  "  cut  and 
split"  wood  for  the  fire  fell  short,  and  Jonas  Patch  was  out 
wielding  the  ax  in  school-time.  He  had  been  at  work 
about  half  an  hour,  when  Memorus,  who  was  perceived  to 
have  less  to  do  than  the  rest,  was  sent  out  to  take  his 
place.  He  was  about  ten  years  old,  and  four  years  younger 
than  Jonas.  "  Memorus,"  said  the  teacher,  "  you  may  go 
out  and  spell  Jonas." 

7.  Our  hero  did  not  think  of  the  Yankee  sense  in  which 
the  master  used  the  word  spell.  Indeed,  Memorus  had 
attached  but  one  meaning  to  it  whenever  it  was  used  with 
reference  to  himself.  He  supposed  the  master  was  grant- 
ing him  a  ride  extraordinary  on  his  favorite  hobby.  So  he 
put  his  spelling-book  under  his  arm  and  was  out  at  the 
wood-pile  with  the  speed  of  a  boy  rushing  to  play. 

8.  "  Have  you  learnt  your  spellin' -lesson,  Jonas  ? "  was 
his  first  salutation.  "  I  have  n't  looked  at  it  yit,"  was  the 
reply.  "  I  mean  to  cut  up  this  plaguy  great  log,  spellin'  or 
no  spellin',  before  I  go  in.  I  had  as  lief  keep  warm  here 
choppin'  wood  as  freeze  up  there  in  that  cold  back  seat." 
"  Well,  the  master  sent  me  out  to  hear  you  spell."  "  Did 
he  ?     Well,  put  out  the  words,  and  I  '11  spell." 

9.  Memorus  being  so  distinguished  a  speller,  Jonas  did 
not  doubt  but  that  he  was  really  sent  out  on  this  errand. 
So  our  deputy  spelling-master  mounted  the  top  of  the 
wood-pile,  just  in  front  of  Jonas,  to  put  out  words  to  his 
temporary  pupil,  who  still  kept  the  chips  flying. 

10.  "  Do  you  know  where  the  lesson  begins,  Jonas  ? " 
'•'  No,  I  don't ;  but  I  s'pose  I  shall  find  out  now."  "Well, 
here  't  is."  (They  both  belonged  to  the  same  class.)  *  Spell 
A-bom-i-na'tion."  Jonas  spells:  A  h-o-m,homya-'bom,  —  in 
the  mean  time  up  goes  the  ax  high  in  air,  —  i,  a-bom-i,  — 


THE  CHAMPION   SPELLER.  203 

down  it  goes  again  into  the  wood,  —  n-a,  na,  a-bom-i-na,  — - 
up  it  goes  again,  —  t-i-o-n,  lion,  a-bom-i-na-tion.  Chuck 
goes  the  ax  again,  and  at  the  same  time  out  flies  a  furious 
chip,  and  hits  Memorus  on  the  nose. 

11.  At  this  moment  the  master  appeared  just  at  the 
corner  of  the  school-house,  with  one  foot  still  on  the  thresh- 
old. "  Jonas,  why  don't  you  come  in  ?  Did  n't  I  send 
Memorus  out  to  spell  you  ? "  "  Yes,  sir ;  and  he  has  been 
spelling  me.     How  could  I  come  in  if  he  spelt  me  here  ? " 

12.  At  this  the  master's  eye  caught  Memorus  perched  up 
on  the  top  stick,  with  his  book  open  upon  his  lap,  rubbing 
his  nose,  and  just  in  the  act  of  putting  out  the  next  word 
of  the  column.  "  Ac-com-mo-da'tion,"  pronounced  Memo- 
rus, in  a  broken  but  louder  voice  than  before ;  for  he  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  master,  and  he  wished  to  let  him 
know  that  he  was  doing  his  duty. 

13.  This  was  too  much  for  the  master's  gravity.  He 
perceived  the  mistake,  and,  without  saying  more,  wheeled 
back  into  the  school-room,  almost  bursting  with  the  most 
tumultuous  laugh  he  ever  tried  to  suppress.  The  scholars 
wondered  at  his  looks,  and  grinned  in  sympathy. 

14.  In  a  few  moments  Jonas  came  in,  followed  by 
Memorus  with  his  spelling-book,  who  exclaimed,  "  I  have 
heard  him  spell  clean  through  the  whole  lesson,  and  he  did 
n't  spell  one  quarter  of  'em  right."  The  master  could  hold 
in  no  longer.  The  scholars,  too,  perceived  the  blunder,  and 
there  w7as  one  simultaneous  roar  from  teacher  and  pupils ; 
the  scholars  laughing  twice  as  loud  and  uproariously  in 
consequence  of  being  permitted  to  laugh  in  school-time, 
and  to  do  it  with  the  accompaniment  of  the  master. 

15.  It  was  some  time  before  Memorus  could  be  made  to 
see  where  the  joke  lay.  At  last  the  teacher  told  him  to 
look  out  the  w7ord  spell  in  the  dictionary.  He  did  so,  and 
found  among  the  definitions  under  spell,  when  a  transitive 
verb,  the  following :  "  To  take  the  turn  or  place  of."  Light 
began  to  dawTn  on  the  mind  of  the  champion. 

Warren  Burton. 


204  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

LXXXV.  —  CHEERS  AND  TEARS. 

i. 

IT  was  a  Sergeant  old  and  gray, 
Well  singed  and  bronzed  from  siege  and  pillage 
Went  tramping  in  an  army's  wake, 

Along  the  turnpike  of  the  village. 
For  days  and  nights  the  winding  host 

Had  through  the  little  place  been  marching, 
And  ever  loud  the  rustics  cheered, 

Till  every  throat  was  hoarse  and  parching. 

II. 

The  Squire  and  farmer,  maid  and  dame, 

All  took  the  sight's  electric  stirring, 
And  hats  were  waved,  and  staves  were  sung. 

And  kerchiefs  white  were  countless  whirring. 
They  only  saw  a  gallant  show 

Of  heroes  stalwart  under  banners, 
And  in  the  fierce  heroic  glow, 

'T  was  theirs  to  yield  but  wild  hosannas. 

in. 
The  Sergeant  heard  the  shrill  hurrahs, 

Where  he  behind  in  step  was  keeping ; 
But  glancing  down  beside  the  road, 

He  saw  a  little  maid  sit  weeping. 
"  And  how  is  this  1 "  he  gruffly  said, 

A  moment  pausing  to  regard  her ; 
"  Why  weepest  thou,  my  little  pet  i" 

And  then  she  only  cried  the  harder. 

IV. 

"  And  how  is  this,  my  little  miss  ? " 

The  sturdy  trooper  straight  repeated, 
"When  all  the  village  cheers  us  on, 

That  you,  in  tears,  apart  are  seated  ? 
We  march  two  hundred  thousand  strong, 

And  that 's  a  sight,  my  baby  beauty, 
To  quicken  silence  into  song, 

And  glorifv  the  soldier's  duty." 


CHEERS  AND   TEAKS.  205 

v. 
u  It 's  very,  very  grand,  I  know," 

The  little  maid  gave  soft  replying ; 
"And  father,  mother,  brother  too, 

All  say  *  Hurrah  ! '  while  I  am  crying  ; 
But  think,  0  Mr.  Soldier,  think, 

How  many  little  sisters'  brothers 
Are  going  all  away  to  fight, 

And  may  be  killed,  as  well  as  others  !  " 

VI. 

"  Why,  bless  thee,  child,"  the  Sergeant  said, 

His  brawny  hand  her  curls  caressing, 
"  'T  is  left  for  little  ones  like  thee 

To  find  that  war  's  not  all  a  blessing/' 
And  "  Bless  thee  !  "  once  again  he  cried  ; 

Then  cleared  his  throat  and  looked  indignant, 
And  marched  away  with  wrinkled  brow 

To  stop  the  struggling  tear  benignant.. 

VII. 

And  still  the  ringing  shouts  went  np 

From  doorway,  thatch,  and  fields  of  tillage  ; 
The  pall  behind  the  standard  seen 

By  one  alone,  of  all  the  village. 
The  oak  and  cedar  bend  and  writhe, 

When  roars  the  wind  through  gap  and  bracken  ; 
But  't  is  the  tenderest  reed  of  all 

That  trembles  first  when  earth  is  shaken. 

R.  H.  Newell. 


EXERCISE. 

1  An  old  sergeant  went  tramping  in  an  army's  ivaJce. 

2.  The  rustics  cheered  till  every  throat  was  hoarse  and  parching. 

3.  Countless  white  handkerchiefs  were  whirring. 

4.  They  only  saw  a  gallant  show  of  stalwart  heroes  under  banners 

5.  It  was  theirs  to  yield  wild  hosannas.     [Shouts  of  praise.] 

6.  "How  is  this?"  the  sturdy  trooper  straight  repeated. 

7.  His  brawny  hand  caressed  her  curls. 

8.  He  marched  away  to  stop  the  benignant  tear. 


206  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

LXXXVL-  BUTTERCUPS  AND  DAISIES. 

DURING  one  of  last  summer's  hottest  days,  I  had 
the  good  fortune  to  be  seated  in  a  railway  car  near 
a  mother  and  four  children,  whose  relations  with  each 
other  were  singularly  beautiful.  It  was  plain  that  they 
were  poor.  The  mother's  bonnet  alone  would  have  been 
enough  to  condemn  the  whole  in  any  one  of  the  world's 
thoroughfares,  but  her  face  was  one  which  it  gave  a  sense 
of  rest  to  look  upon ;  it  was  earnest,  tender,  true,  and 
strong.  The  children  —  two  boys  and  two  girls  —  were 
all  under  the  age  of  twelve,  and  the  youngest  could  not 
speak  plainly. 

2.  They  had  had  a  rare  treat.  They  had  been  visiting 
the  mountains,  and  w^ere  talking  over  the  wonders  they  had 
seen  with  a  glow  of  enthusiastic  delight  which  was  to  be 
envied ;  and  the  mother  bore  her  part  all  the  while  with 
such  equal  interest  and  eagerness,  that  no  one  not  seeing 
her  face  would  have  dreamed  that  she  was  any  other  than 
an  elder  sister. 

3.  In  the  course  of  the  day  there  were  many  occasions 
when  it  was  necessary  for  her  to  deny  requests  and  to 
ask  services,  especially  from  the  elder  boy;  but  no  girl 
anxious  to  please  a  lover  could  have  done  either  with  a 
more  tender  courtesy.  She  had  her  reward,  for  no  lover 
could  have  been  more  tender  and  manly  than  was  the  boy 
of  twelve. 

4  Their  lunch  was  simple  and  scanty,  but  it  had  the 
grace  of  a  royal  banquet.  At  the  last  the  mother  produced 
with  much  glee  three  apples  and  an  orange,  of  which  the 
children  had  not  known.  All  eyes  fastened  on  the  orange. 
It  was  evidently  a  great  rarity.  I  watched  to  see  if  this 
test  would  bring  out  selfishness.  The  mother  said  :  "  How 
shall  I  divide  this?  There  is  one  for  each  of  you,  and  1 
shall  be  best  off  of  all,  for  I  expect  big  tastes  from  each  of 
you." 

5.    "  0,  give  Annie  the  orange  !     Annie  loves  oranges/ 


BUTTERCUPS   AND  DAISIES.  207 

spoke  out  the  elder  boy,  with  the  air  of  a  conqueror,  at 
the  same  time  taking  the  smallest  and  worst  apple  for  him- 
self. "  0  yes,  let  Annie  have  the  orange/'  echoed  the  sec- 
ond boy,  nine  years  old. 

6.  "  Yes,  Annie  may  have  the  orange,  because  it  is  nicer 
than  the  apple,  and  she  is  a  lady  and  her  brothers  are  gen- 
tlemen," said  the  mother,  quietly.  Then  there  was  a  merry 
contest  as  to  who  should  feed  the  mother  with  the  largest 
and  most  frequent  mouthfuls ;  and  so  the  feast  went  on. 

7.  Then  Annie  pretended  to  want  apple,  and  exchanged 
thin  golden  strips  of  orange  for  bites  out  of  the  cheeks  of 
Baldwins  ;  and  as  I  sat  watching  her  intently,  she  suddenly 
fancied  she  saw  a  longing  in  my  face,  and  sprang  over  to 
me,  saying,  "  Do  you  want  a  taste  too  ? " 

8.  The  mother  smiled  understandingly  when  I  said,  "  No, 
I  thank  you,  you  dear,  generous  little  girl ;  I  don't  care 
about  oranges." 

9.  At  noon  we  had  a  tedious  interval  of  waiting  at  a 
dreary  station.  We  sat  for  two  hours  on  a  narrow  platform 
which  the  sun  had  scorched  till  it  smelt  of  heat.  The  elder 
boy,  the  little  lover,  held  the  youngest  child  and  talked  to 
her,  while  the  tired  mother  closed  her  eyes  and  rested. 

10.  The  other  two  children  were  toiling  up  and  down 
the  railroad  banks,  picking  ox-eyed  daisies,  buttercups,  and 
sorrel.  They  worked  like  beavers,  and  soon  the  bunches 
were  almost  too  big  for  their  little  hands.  They  came  run- 
ning to  give  them  to  their  mother. 

11.  "  0  dear  ! "  thought  I ;  "  how  that  poor  tired  woman 
will  hate  to  open  her  eyes !  and  she  never  can  take  those 
great  bundles  of  wilting,  worthless  flowers  in  addition  to 
her  bundles  and  bao;s."     I  was  mistaken. 

12.  "  0,  thank  you,  my  darlings  !  How  kind  you  were  ) 
Poor,  hot,  tired  little  flowers,  how  thirsty  they  look !  If 
they  will  try  and  keep  alive  till  we  get  home,  we  will 
make  them  very  happy  in  some  water,  won't  we  ?  And 
you  shall  put  one  bunch  by  papa's  plate  and  one  by 
mine." 


208  THE   FIFTH   KEADER. 

13.  Sweet  and  happy,  the  weary  and  flushed  little  chil- 
dren stood  looking  up  in  her  face  while  she  talked,  their 
hearts  thrilling  with  compassion  for  the  drooping  flowers, 
and  with  delight  in  giving  their  gift.  Then  she  took  great 
trouble  to  get  a  string  and  tie  up  the  flowers  ;  and  the 
train  came,  and  we  were  whirling  along  again. 

14.  Soon  it  grew  dark,  and  little  Annie's  head  nodded. 
Then  I  heard  the  mother  say  to  the  elder  boy,  "  Dear,  are 
you  too  tired  to  let  little  Annie  put  her  head  on  your 
shoulder  and  take  a  nap  ?  We  shall  get  her  home  in  much 
better  case  to  her  papa,  if  we  can  manage  to  give  her  a 
little  sleep."  How  many  little  boys  of  twelve  hear  such 
words  as  these  from  tired,  over-burdened  mothers  ? 

15.  Soon  came  the  city,  the  final  station,  with  its  bustle 
and  noise.  I  lingered  to  watch  my  happy  family,  hoping 
to  see  the  father.  "  Why,  papa  is  n't  here  ! "  exclaimed  one 
disappointed  little  voice  after  another.    "  Never  mind,"  said 

•the  mother,  with  a  still  deeper  disappointment  in  her 
tone ;  "  perhaps  he  had  to  go  to  see  some  poor  body  who 
is  sick." 

16.  In  the  hurry  of  picking  up  all  the  parcels  and  the 
sleepy  babies,  the  poor  daisies  and  buttercups  were  left 
forgotten  in  the  corner  of  the  rack.  I  wondered  if  the 
mother  had  not  intended  this.  May  I  be  forgiven  for  the 
injustice  !  A  few  minutes  after  I  had  passed  the  little 
group,  standing  still  just  outside  the  station,  I  heard  the 
mother  say,  "  0  my  darlings,  I  have  forgotten  your  pretty 
bouquets.  I  am  so  sorry !  I  wonder  if  I  could  find  them 
if  1  went  back  ?  Will  you  all  stand  still  and  not  stir  from 
tliis  spot,  if  I  go  ? " 

17.  "  0  mamma,  don't  go  !  We  will  get  you  some  more. 
Don't  go  ! "  cried  all  the  children. 

18.  "Here  are  your  flowers,  madam,"  said  I.  "I  saw 
you  had  forgotten  them,  and  I  took  them  as  mementos  of 
you  and  your  sweet  children."  She  blushed  and  looked 
disconcerted.  She  was  evidently  unused  to  people,  and 
shy  with  all  but  her  children. 


THE   STREAMLET.  209 

19.  However,  she  thanked  me  sweetly,  and  said,  "  I  was 
very  sorry  about  them.  The  children  took  such  trouble 
to  get  them,  and  I  think  they  will  revive  in  water.  They 
cannot  be  quite  dead." 

20.  "  They  will  never  die ! "  said  I  with  an  emphasis 
which  went  from  my  heart  to  hers.  Then  all  her  shyness 
fled.  We  shook  hands,  and  smiled  into  each  other's  eyes 
with  the  smile  of  kindred  as  we  parted. 

21.  As  I  followed  on,  I  heard  the  two  children  who  were 
walking  behind  saying  to  each  other,  "  Would  n't  that  have 
been  too  bad  ?  Mamma  liked  them  so  much,  and  we  never 
could  have  got  so  many  all  at  once  again." 

22.  "Yes,  we  could,  too,  next  summer,"  said  the  boy, 
sturdily. 

23.  They  are  sure  of  their  "  next  summer,"  I  think,  all 
of  those  six  souls,  —  children,  and  mother,  and  father. 
They  may  never  raise  so  many  ox-eyed  daisies  and  butter- 
cups "  all  at  once."  Perhaps  some  of  the  little  hands  have 
already  picked  their  last  flowers.  Xevertheless  their  sum- 
mers are  certain  to  such  souls  as  these,  either  here  or  in 
God's  larger  country. 


LXXX VII.  —  THE  STREAMLET. 

i. 

IT  is  only  the  tiniest  stream, 
With  nothing  whatever  to  do, 
But  to  creep  from  its  mosses,  and  gleam 

In  just  a  thin  ribbon  or  two, 
Where  it  spills  from  the  rock,  and  besprinkles 
Tne  flowers  all  round  it  with  dew. 

ii. 
Half-way  up  the  hillside  it  slips 

From  darkness  out  into  the  light, 
Slides  over  the  ledges,  and  drips 

In  a  basin  all  bubbling  and  bright, 
Then  once  more,  in  the  long  meadow-grasses, 

In  silence  it  sinks  out  of  sight. 


210  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

in. 
So  slender,  so  brief  in  its  course ! 

It  will  never  be  useful  or  grand, 
Like  the  waterfall  foaming  and  hoarse, 

Or  the  river  benignant  and  bland, 
That  sweeps  far  away  through  the  valley. 

And  turns  all  the  mills  in  the  land. 

IV. 

Just  a  brooklet,  so  perfect,  so  sweet, — 
Like  a  child  that  is  always  a  child ! 

A  picture  as  fair  and  complete, 
As  softly  and  peacefully  wild, 

As  if  Nature  had  only  just  made  it, 
And  laid  down  her  pencil  and  smiled. 

v. 

The  strong  eagle  perched  on  these  rocks 
And  dipped  his  proud  beak,  long  ago  ; 

In  the  gray  of  the  morning  the  fox 
Came  and  lapped  in  the  basin  below ; 

By  a  hoof-printed  trail  through  the  thicket 
The  deer  used  to  pass  to  and  fro. 

VI. 

Now  the  jolly  haymakers  in  June 

Bring  their  luncheon,  and  couch  on  the  cool 

Grassy  margin,  and  drink  to  the  tune 

The  brook  makes  in  its  pebble-lined  pool,  — 
From  grandfather  down  to  the  youngsters 
In  haying-time  kept  out  of  school. 

VII. 

They  joke  and  tell  tales  as  they  eat, 
While,  wistful  his  share  to  receive, 

The  dog  wags  his  tail  at  their  feet ; 

Then  each  stout  mower  tucks  up  his  sleeve 

As  the  farmer  cries,  "  Come,  boys  !  "     The  squirrel 
Dines  well  on  the  crumbs  which  they  leave. 


,./,////'l 


THE  STREAMLET. 

Mi  \ 


211 


VIII. 


The  children  all  know  of  the  place, 
And  here  with  their  basket,  in  search 

Of  wild  roses,  come  Bertha  nnd  Grace, 
And  Paul  with  his  fish-pole  and  perch 


212  THE  FIFTH  EEADEE. 

While  the  meadow-lark  sings,  and  above  them 
The  woodpecker  drums  on  the  birch. 

IX. 

Is  the  drop  the  bee  finds  in  the  clover 
More  sweet  than  the  liquor  they  quaff? 

It  drips  in  the  cup,  and  runs  over; 
And,  sipping  it,  spilling  it  half, — 

Hear  their  mirth  !     Did  Grace  learn  of  the  brooklet 
That  low,  lisping,  crystalline  laugh? 

x. 

For  music  I'm  sure  it  taught 

To  its  neighbor,  the  pied  bobolink, — 
Where  else  could  the  fellow  have  caught 

That  swTeet  liquid  note,  do  you  think, 
Half  tinkle,  half  gurgle?    The  wren,  too, 

I'm  certain  has  been  here  to  drink! 

XI. 

O,  teach  me  your  song,  happy  brook ! 

If  I  visit  you  yet  many  times, 
If  I  put  away  business  and  book, 

And  list  to  your  fairy-bell  chimes, 
Will  your  freshness  breathe  into  my  verses, 

Your  music  glide  into  my  rhymes? 

J.  T.  Trowbridge. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  It  is  only  the  tiniest  stream,  with  nothing  whatever  to  do. 

2.  It  spills  from  the  rock,  and  besprinkles  the  flowers  with  dew. 

3.  It  slides  over  the  ledges,  and  drips  in  a  basin. 

4.  Its  course  is-  slender  and  brief. 

5.  The  deer  used  to  pass  to  and  fro  by  a  hoof-printed  trail  through  the 
thicket. 

6.  The  jolly  haymakers  bring  their  luncheon. 

7.  Thy  couch  on  the  cool  grassy  margin. 

8.  Is  the  drop  the  bee  finds  more  sweet  than  the  liquor  they  quaff? 


A   BEVOLUTIONARY    HERO   IN   THE   PULPIT.  213 

LXXXVIII .—  A  REVOLUTIONARY  HERO  IN 
THE  PULPIT. 

IT  was  Monday,  March  6,  1775,  —  a  memorable  day  in 
the  history  of  Boston.  The  streets  were  crowded  with 
an  anxious  throng,  stores  were  closed,  and  business  scarcely 
thought  of.  Oyer  the  Xeck,  and  by  Charlestown  Ferry, 
country  people  were  coming  into  town  on  foot,  on  horse- 
back, and  in  wagons,  while  here  and  there  a  chaise,  as  it 
rolled  along,  showed  that  the  squires  and  the  gentlemen 
had  an  interest  in  the  passing  eyents.  Groups  collected 
at  the  corners  in  animated  conversation  ;  and  occasionally 
a  soldier  in  the  scarlet  uniform  of  King  George  went  hur- 
riedly by,  his  ears  tingling  with  the  imprecations  and  mut- 
terings  that  reached  them  from  eyery  side. 

2.  The  Boston  Massacre  was,  as  usual,  to  be  commem- 
orated by  an  oration.  The  anniversary  properly  came  the 
day  before,  on  Sunday ;  but  the  sacredness  of  holy  time 
was  observed,  and  the  services  deferred.  Four  of  these 
sad  occasions  had  already  passed,  each  succeeding  year 
bringing  new  and  heavier  troubles  and  dangers.  But 
that  unfortunate  affray  in  King  Street,  when  Preston's 
soldiers  fired  upon  the  excited  crowd,  was  kept  fresh  in 
mind  ;  and  its  anniversary,  with  the  attending  ceremonies, 
served,  as  was  the  intention,  to  foster  the  liberty-loving 
spirit  of  the  people. 

3.  Each  succeeding  year  only  intensified  the  animosity 
to  British  rule ;  for  the  authorities  scorned  conciliatory 
measures,  and  the  Colonists  were  learning  to  assert  their 
rights.  War  was  actually  impending  ;  but  the  presence 
of  hostile  troops,  the  tyrannical  acts  of  the  imperious  Brit- 
ish general,  the  fortifications  erected  in  various  parts  of  the 
town,  the  destitute  and  suffering  condition  of  the  popula- 
tion,—  all  could  not  restrain  the  patriots  from  publicly 
observing  the  day.  Conflict  was  in  the  air  and  on  the 
tongue ;  and  the  people,  educated  by  rapidly  succeeding 
acts  of  oppression,  did  not  shrink  from  the  now  inevi- 
table struggle  for  liberty*- 


214  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

4.  The  excitement  increased;  and,  while  there  was  no 
actual  disturbance,  countenances  were  grave  with  the 
momentous  interests  that  seemed  to  center  in  that  anni- 
versary. British  troops  held  the  town,  and  Tories  were 
exultant.  Strong  fortifications  had  been  erected  across  the 
Neck,  —  then  the  only  avenue  into  the  country,  —  and  these 
were  mounted  with  cannon,  and  manned  by  three  hun- 
dred and  forty  soldiers.  On  the  Common,  seventeen  hun- 
dred troops  were  stationed,  and  extensive  intrenchments 
thrown  up.  Fort  Hill,  Beacon  Hill,  King  Street,  Castle 
William,  and  other  prominent  points,  were  well  guarded, 
and  an  army  of  thirteen  thousand  men  was  expected  early 
the  next  month. 

5.  But  with  all  this  display  of  military  power,  with  all 
this  attempt  to  overawe  and  subdue  the  town,  and  with 
all  these  precautions  against  any  uprising  of  the  citizens, 
or  inroads  from  the  country,  the  patriots  manifested  such 
indomitable  spirit,  and  such  persistent  fidelity  to  their 
principles,  that  the  royal  authorities,  civil  and  military., 
much  against  their  inclination,  felt,  like  Falstaff,  that  "  the 
better  part  of  valor  was  discretion." 

6.  They  knew  full  well  that  it  would  be  unwise  to  at- 
tempt to  prevent  a  gathering  on  the  5th  of  March;  but 
it  was  "given  out"  that  it  would  be  at  the  price  of  his 
life  for  any  man  to  speak  of  the  Massacre,  and  that  any 
unfavorable  reflection  upon  the  King  and  royal  family 
would  be  promptly  recognized  by  the  military. 

7.  But  the  people  cared  not;  the  meeting  should  be  held; 
the  oration  should  be  delivered,  and  by  some  one,  too,  who 
would  not  quail  before  the  enemies  of  his  country.  The 
post  of  honor  was  the  post  of  danger.  Warren  coveted, 
asked  for  it.  Samuel  Adams,  the  incorruptible  patriot, 
was  chairman  of  the  appointing  committee  ;  and  the  friend- 
ship of  these  men  was  like  that  of  David  and  Jonathan. 
Warren  had  given  the  oration  once  before  when  it  was  less 
hazardous;  and,  as  he  desired,  he  was  now  appointed  when 
there  was  real  peril. 


A   REVOLUTIONARY   HERO   IN   THE   PULPIT.  215 

8.  The  meeting  organized  in  Faneuil  Hall,  —  Samuel 
Adams,  in  gray  tie-wig,  and  suit  of  dark  red,  presiding. 
A  few  items  of  business  were  transacted,  but  the  crowd 
could  not  get  within  the  walls,  and  the  meeting  was  ad- 
journed, to  meet  at  the  Old  South  at  half  past  eleven 
o'clock  the  same  forenoon. 

9.  In  the  mean  time  the  enthusiastic  and  expectant 
populace  left  the  Hall  and  area  around  it,  and  hurriedly 
pressed  toward  the  Old  South;  and  quickly  "the  Sanctu- 
ary of  Freedom "  was  filled,  and  hundreds  stood  around 
the  porches  and  in  the  streets. 

10.  The  pulpit,  high  and  conspicuous,  was  draped  in 
black,  and  within  it  stood  the  selectmen,  with  Adams, 
Hancock,  and  other  fearless  leaders.  Forty  British  sol- 
diers in  uniform  occupied  the  front  seats  and  the  pulpit 
stairs  to  intimidate  the  patriots,  —  a  hopeless  task ! 

11.  A  concerted  plan  to  break  up  the  meeting  ludicrously 
failed.  An  ensign  was  to  give  a  signal  to  the  soldiers  by 
throwing  an  egg  at  Warren  in  the  pulpit ;  but  on  his  way 
to  the  meeting-house  he  fell,  dislocated  his  knee,  broke  the 
egg.  and  the  scheme  was  frustrated. 

12.  The  vast  audience  anxiously  waited  for  the  orator, 
and  the  minutes  seemed  hours.  But  he  came  not ;  and 
there  was  mingled  apprehension  and  impatience.  It  needed 
but  a  hasty  word,  or  indiscreet  movement,  to  bring  on  a 
collision  between  the  people  and  the  troops.  The  very 
presence  of  the  soldiers  irritated  the  assembly ;  and  Adams 
afterwards  said,  "  I  am  persuaded  that,  had  it  not  been  for 
the  danger  of  precipitating  a  crisis,  not  a  man  of  them 
would  have  been  spared." 

13.  At  last  a  " single  horse  chair"  came  up  the  street, 
and  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  apothecary's  shop  which 
stood  just  opposite  the  Old  South.  Warren  alighted  ;  and, 
followed  by  a  servant,  went  in  and  robed  himself  in  what 
one  of  the  journals  of  the  day  called  a  "  Ciceronian  toga." 
He  could  not  easily  enter  at  the  door  of  the  meeting-house, 
by  reason  of  the  crowd,  and  it  is  scarcely  probable  that  he 


216  THE   FIFTH  KEADER. 

could  have  reached  the  pulpit  in  safety.  But  the  intrepid 
orator  did  not  flinch.  A  ladder  was  placed  at  the  window 
back  of  the  pulpit,  and,  calmly  ascending,  with  his  "  toga  " 
flowing,  he  stepped  from  the  upper  round  into  the  sacred 
desk,  and  stood  before  the  audience. 

14.  Everett  thus  portrays  him :  "  Amiable,  accomplished, 
prudent,  energetic,  eloquent,  brave,  he  united  the  graces 
of  a  manly  beauty  to  a  lion  heart,  a  sound  mind,  a  safe 
judgment,  and  a  firmness  of  purpose  which  nothing  could 
shake.  He  was  a  powerful  orator,  because  he  was  a  true 
man,  and  struggled  for  man's  highest  rights ;  a  patriot,  in 
whom  the  flush  of  youth  and  the  grace  and  dignity  of 
manhood  were  combined,  stood  armed  in  the  sanctuary  of 
God,  to  animate  and  encourage  the  sons  of  liberty,  and  to 
hurl  defiance  at  their  oppressors." 

15.  It  was  an  audience  to  be  honored  by  every  lover  of 
human  rights,  to  be  feared  by  every  one  who  would  trample 
on  those  rights.  It  "  consisted  mainly  of  the  actors  in 
the  public  meetings  of  preceding  years,  —  the  men  who  had 
opposed  the  Eevenue  Acts,  had  protested  against  military 
rule,  had  summoned  the  Convention  of  1768,  had  de- 
manded the  removal  of  the  troops,  had  organized  Commit- 
tees of  Correspondence,  had  destroyed  the  tea,  and  had 
resisted  the  Regulating  Act."  Such  a  gathering  was  not 
to  be  trifled  with,  and  even  the  soldiers  who  were  present 
to  intimidate,  themselves  felt  ill  at  ease. 

16.  The  silence  was  oppressive,  the  interest  intense  ;  but 
quickly  the  firm  tone  of  the  speaker  broke  the  spell,  and 
then  came  the  oration,  noble,  fearless,  patriotic,  inspiriting. 
The  previous  threats,  the  presence  of  the  soldiers,  had  no 
effect  save  to  emphasize  his  thrilling  sentences  ;  and  the 
mutual  relations  of  England  and  the  Colonies,  the  dangers 
and  duties  of  the  hour,  were  told  with  trumpet  tongue. 

"  He  dared  to  speak  what  some  scarce  dared  to  think." 

17.  The  audience  was  enthusiastic,  while  on  the  part  of 
the  soldiers  there  was  an  attempt  to  disturb  and  break  up 


A   REVOLUTIONARY    HERO   IN   THE   PULPIT.  217 

the  meeting.  Once,  in  the  course  of  a  pointed  paragraph, 
a  British  officer,  seated  on  the  pulpit  stairs,  held  up  one  of 
his  hands  with  several  bullets  in  the  open  palm.  Warren's 
quick  eye  noticed  the  action,  and  his  white  handkerchief, 
as  if  by  chance,  gracefully  dropped  upon  them  and  con- 
cealed the  ominous  sight. 

18.  The  oration  closed,  the  vast  crowd  slowly  dispersed; 
but  the  events  of  that  day  affected  all  the  future  of  Ameri- 
ca. "  Such  an  hour,"  says  Knapp,  "  has  seldom  happened 
in  the  history  of  man,  and  is  not  surpassed  in  the  history  of 
nations.  The  thunders  of  Demosthenes  rolled  at  a  distance 
from  Philip  and  his  host ;  and  Tully  poured  the  fiercest  tor- 
rent of  invective  when  Catiline  was  at  a  distance,  and  his 
dagger  no  longer  to  be  feared;  but  "Warren's  speech  was 
made  to  proud  oppressors  resting  on  their  arms,  whose  er- 
rand it  was  to  overawe,  and  whose  business  it  was  to  fight." 

19.  Bostonians  long  since  ceased  to  observe  the  5th  of 
March  with  public  services ;  but  to-day,  and  for  all  time, 
the  city  and  the  nation,  nay  more,  the  cause  of  liberty 
throughout  the  world,  do,  and  will,  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude 
to  Warren,  Adams,  Hancock,  and  their  noble  companions, 
who  led  the  Colonies  to  independence. 

Samuel  Burnham. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  The  streets  were  crowded  with  an  anxious  throng. 

2.  Soldiers  in  scarlet  uniform  Trent  hurriedly  by. 

3.  The  unfortunate  affray  in  King  Street  was  ~kept  in  mind. 

4.  Each  year  intensified  the  animosity  to  British  rule. 

5.  The  authorities  scorned  conciliatory  measures. 

6.  The  patriots  manifested  an  indomitable  spirit. 

7.  The  enthusiastic  populace  left  the  hall. 

8.  British  soldiers  occupied  the  front  seats,  to  intimidate  the  patriots. 
9  The  presence  of  the  soldiers  irritated  the  assembly. 

10.  A  concerted  plan  to  break  up  the  meeting  ludicrously  failed. 

11.  An  officer  dislocated  hi?  knee,  and  the  scheme  was  frustrated. 

12.  ^Varren   dropped  his  handkerchief  and  concealed  the  ominous 

sight.     [Sign  of  evil.] 

13.  The  oration  closed,  the  vast  crowd  dispersed. 

14  Such  an  hour  is  not  surpassed  in  the  history  of  nations. 


218  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

LXXXIX.  —  NOTHING  TO    WEAR. 


O  LADIES,  dear  ladies,  the  next  sunny  day 
Please  trundle  your  hoops  just  out  of  Broadway, 
From  its  whirl  and  its  bustle,  its  fashion  and  pride, 
And  the  temples  of  Trade  which  tower  on  each  side, 
To  the  alleys  and  lanes  where  Misfortune  and  Guilt 
Their  children  have  gathered,  their  city  have  built ; 
Where  Hunger  and  Vice,  like  twin  beasts  of  prey, 

Have  hunted  their  victims  to  gloom  and  despair. 
Raise  the  rich,  dainty  dress,  and  the  fine  broidered  skirt 
Pick  your  delicate  way  through  the  dampness  and  dirt ; 

Grope  through  the  dark  dens,  climb  the  rickety  stair 
To  the  garret,  where  wretches,  the  young  and  the  old, 
Half  starved,  and  half  naked,  lie  crouched  from  the  cold  ! 

ii. 

See  those  skeleton  limbs,  those  frost-bitten  feet, 

All  bleeding  and  bruised  by  the  stones  of  the  street ; 

Hear  the  sharp  cry  of  childhood,  the  deep  groans  that  swell 

From  the  poor  dying  creature  who  writhes  on  the  floor  ; 
Hear  the  curses  that  sound  like  Hope's  dying  farewell, 

As  you  sicken  and  shudder  and  fly  from  the  door  ; 
Then  home  to  your  wardrobes,  and  say,  if  you  dare, 
Spoiled  children  of  Fashion,  you  've  nothing  to  wear. 

in. 

And  0,  if  perchance  there  should  be  a  sphere 
Where  all  is  made  right  which  so  puzzles  us  here  ; 
Where  the  glare,  and  the  glitter,  and  tinsel  of  Time 
Fade  and  die  in  the  light  of  that  region  sublime  ; 
Where  the  soul,  disenchanted  of  flesh  and  of  sense, 
Unscreened  by  its  trappings,  and  shows,  and  pretense, 
Must  be  clothed,  for  the  life  and  the  service  above, 
With  purity,  truth,  faith,  meekness,  and  love  ; 
0  daughters  of  Earth  !  foolish  virgins,  beware  ! 
Lest  in  that  upper  realm  you  have  nothing  to  wear  ! 

W.  A.  Butler. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON.  219 

XC.  —  TSU  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON. 

THE  last  stars  were  vanishing  from  night,  when  the 
foremost  party  of  British  soldiers,  led  by  Pitcairn, 
a  major  of  marines,  was  discovered,  advancing  quickly  and 
in  silence.  Alarm-guns  were  fired,  and  the  drums  beat, 
not  a  call  to  village  husbandmen  only,  but  the  reveille 
to  humanity.  Less  than  seventy,  perhaps  less  than  sixty, 
obeyed  the  summons,  and,  in  sight  of  half  as  many  boys 
and  unarmed  men,  were  paraded  in  two  ranks,  a  few  rods 
north  of  the  meeting-house. 

2.  How  often  in  that  building  had  they,  with  renewed 
professions  of  faith,  looked  up  to  God  as  the  stay  of  their 
fathers,  and  the  protector  of  their  privileges !  How  often, 
on  that  village  green,  hard  by  the  burial-place  of  their  fore- 
fathers, had  they  pledged  themselves  to  each  other  to  com- 
bat manfully  for  their  birthright  inheritance  of  Liberty ! 

3.  There  they  now  stood,  side  by  side,  under  the  provin- 
cial banner,  with  arms  in  their  hands,  silent  and  fearless, 
willing  to  tight  for  their  privileges,  scrupulous  not  to  begin 
civil  war,  and  as  yet  unsuspicious  of  immediate  danger. 
The  ground  on  which  they  trod  was  the  altar  of  Freedom, 
and  they  were  to  furnish  its  victims. 

4.  The  British  van,  hearing  the  drum  and  the  alarm- 
guns,  halted  to  load;  the  remaining  companies  came  up; 
and  at  half  an  hour  before  sunrise  the  advance  party  hur- 
ried forward  at  double-quick  time,  almost  upon  a  run, 
closely  followed  by  the  grenadiers.  Pitcairn  rode  in  front ; 
and  when  within  five  or  six  rods  of  the  minute-men,  cried 
out,  "Disperse,  ye  villains  !  ye  rebels,  disperse  !  Lay  down 
your  arms  !  why  don't  you  lay  down  your  -arms  and  dis- 
perse ?  " 

5.  The  main  part  of  the  countrymen  stood  motionless  in 
the  ranks,  witnesses  against  aggression,  —  too  few  to  resist, 
too  brave  to  fly.  At  this  Pitcairn  discharged  a  pistol,  and 
with  a  loud  voice  cried,  K  Fire  !  "  The  order  was  instantly 
followed,  first  by  a  few7  guns,  which  did  no  execution,  and 


220  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

then   by  a   heavy,  close,  and   deadly  discharge   of   mus- 
ketry. 

6.  In  the  disparity  of  numbers,  the  common  was  a  field 
of  murder,  not  of  battle ;  Parker,  captain  of  the  militia  and 
alarm-men,  therefore  ordered  his  men  to  disperse.  Then, 
and  not  till  then,  did  a  few  of  them,  on  their  own  impulse, 
return  the  British  fire.  These  random  shots  of  fugitives  or 
dying  men  did  no  harm,  except  that  Pitcairn's  horse  was 
perhaps  grazed,  and  a  private  of  the  Tenth  Light  Infantry 
was  touched  slightly  in  the  leg. 

7.  Day  came  in  all  the  beauty  of  an  early  spring.  The 
trees  were  budding ;  the  grass  growing  rankly  a  full  month 
before  the  season ;  the  bluebird  and  the  robin  gladdening 
the  genial  season,  and  calling  forth  the  beams  of  the  sun, 
which  on  that  morning  shone  with  the  warmth  of  summer ; 
but  distress  and  horror  gathered  over  the  inhabitants  of  the 
peaceful  town.  There,  on  the  green,  lay  in  death  the  gray- 
haired  and  the  young ;  the  grassy  field  was  red  "  with  the 
innocent  blood  of  their  brethren  slain,"  crying  unto  God 
for  vengeance  from  the  ground. 

8.  Seven  of  the  men  of  Lexington  were  killed,  nine 
wounded, — a  quarter*  part  of  those  who  stood  in  arms  on 
the  green.  These  are  the  village  heroes,  who  were  more 
than  of  noble  blood,  proving  by  their  spirit  that  they  were 
of  a  race  divine.  They  gave  their  lives  in  testimony  to  the 
rights  of  mankind ;  bequeathing  to  their  country  an  assur- 
ance of  success  in  the  mighty  struggle  which  they  began. 
Their  names  are  had  in  grateful  remembrance  ;  and  the  ex- 
panding millions  of  their  countrymen  renew  and  multiply 
their  praise  from  generation  to  generation.  Bancroft. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  A  party  of  soldiers  was  discovered,  advancing  quickly  and  in  silence. 

2.  The  drams  beat  the  reveille  (pronounced  re-val'ya).     [Signal  to 
arouse.] 

3.  Less  than  seventy  men  obeyed  the  summons. 

4.  They  pledged  themselves  to  combat  manfully  for  liberty. 

5.  They  stood  side  by.  side  under  the  provincial  banner. 


DAVID   AND   GOLIATH.  221 

XCL  —  DAVID  AND    GOLIATH. 

(~^\  OLIATH.     Where  is  the  mighty  man  of  war,  who  dares 

VJT  Accept  the  challenge  of  Philistia's  chief? 

What  victor  king,  what  general  drenched  in  blood, 

Claims  this  high  privilege  1     What  are  his  rights  % 

What  proud  credentials  does  the  boaster  bring, 

To  prove  his  claim  1     What  cities  laid  in  ashes, 

What  ruined  provinces,  what  slaughtered  realms, 

Has  he  to  boast  ]     Is  his  bright  armory 

Thick-set  with  spears,  and  swords,  and  coats  of  mail 

Of  vanquished  nations,  by  a  single  arm 

Subdued  1     Where  is  the  mortal  man  so  bold, 

So  much  a  wretch,  so  out  of  love  with  life, 

To  dare  the  weight  of  this  uplifted  spear  ] 

David.  Behold  thy  foe  ! 

Gol.  I  see  him  not. 

Dav.  Behold  him  here  ! 

Gol.  Say,  where  % 

Direct  my  sight.      I  do  not  war  with  boys. 

Dav.  I  stand  prepared  ;  thy  single  arm  to  mine. 

Gol.  Why  this  is  mockery,  minion !  it  may  chance 
To  cost  thee  dear.     Sport  not  with  things  above  thee  : 
But  tell  me  who,  of  all  this  numerous  host, 
Expects  his  death  from  me  l     Which  is  the  man 
Whom  Israel  sends  to  meet  my  bold  defiance  ! 

Dav.   The  election  of  my  sovereign  falls  on  me. 

Gol,  On  thee  !  on  thee  !  by  Dagon,  't  is  too  much  ! 
Thou  curled  minion  !  thou  a  nation's  champion  ! 
'T  would  move  my  mirth  at  any  other  time  ; 
But  trifling  's  out  of  tune.     Begone,  light  boy  ! 
And  tempt  me  not  too  far. 

Dav.  I  do  defy  thee, 

Thou  foul  idolater  !     Hast  thou  not  scorned 
The  armies  of  the  living  God  I  serve  1 
By  me  he  will  avenge  upon  thy  head 
Thy  nation's  sins  and  thine.     Armed  with  his  name, 
Unshrinking,  I  dare  meet  the  stoutest  foe 
That  ever  bathed  his  hostile  spear  in  blood. 

G%oL  Now  will  I  meet  thee, 


222  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

Thou  insect  warrior  !  since  thou  darest  me  thus  : 
Already  I  behold  thy  mangled  limbs, 
Dissevered  each  from  each,  erelong  to  feed 
The  fierce,  blood-snuffing  vulture.     Mark  me  well  i 
Around  my  spear  I  '11  twist  thy  shining  locks, 
And  toss  in  air  thy  head  all  gashed  with  wounds ; 
Thy  lips  yet  quivering  with  the  dire  convulsions 
Of  recent  death  !     Art  thou  not  terrified  ] 

Dav.  No ; 

True  courage  is  not  moved  by  breath  of  words. 
Courage,  the  child  of  Fortitude  and  Faith, 
Holds  its  firm  empire  in  the  constant  soul ; 
And,  like  the  steadfast  pole-star,  never  once 
From  the  same  fixed  and  faithful  point  declines. 

Gol.  The  curses  of  Philistia's  gods  be  on  thee  ! 
This  fine-drawn  speech  is  made  to  lengthen  out 
That  little  life  thy  words  pretend  to  scorn. 

Dav.  Ha !  say'st  thou  so?  Come  on,  then !  Mark  us  well) 
Thou  com'st  to  me  with  sword,  and  spear,  and  shield ! 
In  the  dread  name  of  Israel's  God  I  come,  — 
The  living  Lord  of  Hosts,  whom  thou  defiest ! 
Yet  though  no  shield  I  bring  ;  no  arms,  except 
These  five  smooth  stones  I  gathered  from  the  brook, 
With  such  a  simple  sling  as  shepherds  use  ;  — 
Yet,  all  exposed,  defenceless  as  I  am, 
The  God  I  serve  shall  give  thee  up  a  prey 
To  my  victorious  arm.     I  will  give  thee, 
Spite  of  thy  vaunted  strength  and  giant  bulk, 
To  glut  the  carrion  kites.     Nor  thee  alone  : 
The  mangled  carcasses  of  your  thick  host 
Shall  spread  the  plains  of  Elah  ;  till  Philistia, 
Through  all  her  trembling  tents  and  flying  bands, 
Shall  own  that  Judah's  God  is  God  indeed ! 
I  dare  thee  to  the  trial ! 

Gol.  Follow  me. 

In  this  good  spear  I  trust. 

Dav  I  trust  in  Heaven ! 

The  God  of  battles  stimulates  my  arm, 

And  fires  my  soul  with  ardor  not  its  own.     rr   „  .  _    ±  , 

J  H.  More.  — Adapted. 


AX   OBJECT   LESSON.  223 

XCII.-eiJ   OBJECT  LESSON. 

WE  were  invited  to  an  Object  Lesson,  and  marched 
off,  where  we  took  our  seat  among  the  pupils,  whose 
age  varied  between  eight  years  and  eleven.  The  teacher  was 
before  us.  We  were  all  attention.  "  Hands  down."  We  did 
it.  "  Hands  on  knees."  Beautifully  simultaneous.  Very 
good.     The  lesson  began. 

2.  "  I  have  something  in  my  pocket,"  said  our  teacher. 
"  which  I  am  always  glad  to  have  there."  We  were  old 
enough  and  worldly  enough  to  know  what  he  meant ; 
but  boys  aspire  to  fill  their  pockets  with  so  many  things 
that,  according  to  their  minds,  the  something  in  the 
teacher's  pocket  might  be  string,  apple,  knife,  brass  but- 
ton, top,  hardbake,  wood  for  boat,  crumbs,  jewsharp,  gun- 
powder, marbles,  slate-pencil,  pea-shooter,  brad-awl,  or, 
perhaps,  small  cannon. 

3.  They  attempted  no  rash  guess,  therefore,  at  that  stage 
of  the  problem.  "  Boys  also,"  our  teacher  continued,  "  like 
to  have  it,  though  when  it  gets  into  a  boy's  pocket,  I  be- 
lieve that  it  is  often  said  to  burn  a  hole  there."  Instantly 
twenty  outstretched  hands  indicated  an  idea  demanding 
utterance  in  twenty  heads.  "  If  you  please,  sir,  I  know 
what  it  is."     "  What  is  it?  "     "  A  piece  of  coal." 

4.  You  draw  your  reasoning,  my  boy,  from  a  part  only 
of  the  information  ^iven  to  you,  founding  your  view  of 
things  on  the  last  words  that  sounded  in  your  ears.  We 
laughed  at  you,  cheerfully;  but  when  we  see  the  same 
thing  done  in  the  world  daily  by  your  elders,  we  do  not 
always  find  it  a  laughing  matter. 

5.  "  This  little  thing  in  my  pocket,"  the  teacher  con- 
tinued, "  has  not  much  power  by  itself,  but  when  many 
of  the  same  kind  come  together,  they  can  do  great  deeds. 
A  number  of  them  have  assembled  lately  to  build  hand- 
some monuments  to  a  great  man,  whose  name  you  all 
ought  to  know,  for  he  made  the  penny  loaf  bigger  than 
it  used  to  be  ; —  do  you  know  what  great  man  that  was  ? " 


224  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

6.  Hands  were  out,  answers  were  ready ;  but  they  ran 
pretty  exclusively  in  favor  of  Prince  Albert  and  the  Duke 
of  Wellington.  "  I  am  sure/'  says  the  teacher,  "  you  must 
have  heard  who  made  all  the  loaves  larger  without  altering 
the  price  ;  think  again,  —  who  was  it  ?  "  A  confident  voice 
hazarded  the  suggestion  that  it  was  "  Guy  Fawkes,"  and 
half  a  dozen  voices  cried  "  Guy  Fawkes."  There  are  al- 
ways some  to  follow  the  absurdest  lead,  if  it  be  taken 
confidently,  in  the  great  as  in  the  little  world. 

7.  "  Guy  Fawkes  !  nonsense  !  Is  he  to  be  carried  about 
in  your  heads  all  through  November  and  December  ? "  More 
inquiry  at  length  elicited,  after  a  little  uncertain  hovering 
about  Louis  Napoleon,  the  decisive  opinion  that  the  man 
who  made  bread  cheaper  was  Sir  Eobert  Peel.  "  If  you 
please,  sir,"  said  an  argumentative  little  fellow,  "  he  did  not 
make  the  penny  loaf  bigger." 

8.  "  Why  not  ?  "  "  He  did  not  make  the  loaf ;  he  made 
the  baker  make  it."  The  difficulty  thus  started  having  been 
properly  gone  into,  and  further  statement  of  the  riddle  hav- 
ing been  given,  it  was  at  length  fairly  guessed  that  the 
teacher's  object  upon  which  he  meant  to  talk  with  us  that 
day  was  a  Penny. 

9.  We  ascertained  that  it  was  round,  that  it  was  hard, 
that  it  was  brown,  that  it  was  heavy,  —  by  which  we  meant, 
as  some  of  us  explained,  that  it  was  heavier  than  the  same, 
quantity  of  water ;  that  it  was  stamped  on  both  sides,  and 
so  forth  ;  also  that  it  was  made  of  copper.  Pence  being  next 
regarded  purely  in  the  light  of  coppers,  the  name  of  the  metal, 
"  Copper,"  was  written  at  the  top  of  a  blackboard,  and  a  line 
was  drawn,  along  which  we  were  to  place  a  regiment  of 
qualities. 

10.  We  began  easily  by  asserting  copper  to  be  hard  ;  and 
showed  our  penetration  by  discovering  that,  since  a  penny 
would  not  do  for  framing  as  a  spy-glass,  it  must  be  opaque. 
Can  you  spell  opaque  ?  0  dear,  yes  !  Twenty  hands  were 
out ;  but  we  were  not  all  so  wise  as  we  imagined.  No  mat- 
ter ;  there  are  folks  of  bigger  size  elsewhere  who  undertake 


AN   OBJECT   LESSON.  225 

what  they  are  not  able  to  do.  O-p-a-k-e  ought  to  be  right; 
but,  like  not  a  few  things  of  which  we  could  argue  that  they 
must  be  right,  it  happened  to  be  wrong ;  so  what  was  the  use 
of  talking  ? 

11.  We  heard  a  little  boy  in  the  corner  whispering  the 
truth,  afraid  as  yet  to  utter  it  too  boldly.  It  was  not  the 
only  truth  that  has  appeared  first  in  a  whisper.  Yet  as 
truth  is  great  and  shall  prevail,  it  was  but  fit  that  we  all 
finally  determined  upon  o-p-a-q-u-e ;  and  so  we  did ;  and 
we  all  uttered  those  letters  from  all  corners  of  the  room 
with  the  more  perfect  confidence  as  they  grew,  by  each 
repetition,  more  familiar  to  our  minds. 

12.  A  young  student  in  a  pinafore,  eight  years  old  and 
short  for  his  age,  square  and  solid,  who  had  been  sitting  on 
the  front  row,  nearly  opposite  the  teacher,  was  upon  his 
legs.  He  had  advanced  one  or  two  steps  on  the  floor,  hold- 
ing out  his  hand ;  he  had  thought  of  another  quality,  and 
waited  to  catch  Mr.  Speakers  eye.  But  our  eyes  wandered 
among  the  outstretched  hands,  and  other  lips  cried,  "  It  is 
malleable  "  ;  so  malleable  was  written  on  the  board. 

13.  It  was  not  the  word  that  still  lurked  in  the  mind  of 
Master  Square,  who  in  a  solid  mood  kept  his  position  in 
advance,  ready  to  put  forth  his  suggestion  at  the  earliest 
opportunity.  What  malleable  meant  was  the  question 
over  which  we  were  now  called  upon  to  hammer,  but 
we  soon  beat  the  answer  out  among  ourselves  ;  and  then 
wre  spelt  the  word,  and  malleability  into  the  bargain. 

14.  Master  Square  uplifted  his  hand  the  moment  we  had 
finished ;  but  there  rose  other  hands  again,  and  the  young 
philosopher,  biding  his  time  in  sturdy  silence,  listened 
through  the  discussion  raised  as  to  whether  or  not  copper 
might  be  called  odorous.  This  debate  over,  Square  was 
again  ready ;  but  an  eager  little  fellow  cried  that  copper 
is  tenacious,  upon  which  there  was  a  new  quality  sub- 
mitted to  our  notice,  which  we  must  discuss,  explain, 
and  of  which  the  name  had  to  be  spelt. 

15.  But  Master  Square's  idea  had  not  yet  been  forestalled, 


226  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

and  he,  like  copper,  ranked  tenacity  among  his  qualities. 
At  length  he  caught  Mr.  Chairman's  eye,  and  said  with  a 
small  voice,  "  Please,  sir,  I  know  a  quality."  "  And  what 
is  that  ?  "  the  teacher  asked.  Little  Square  replied,  as  he 
resumed  his  seat,  "  It 's  Inorganic." 

16.  Here  was  a  bombshell  of  a  word  thrown  among  us  by 
this  little  fellow,  but  we  did  not  flinch.  Inorganic  of  course 
meant  "  got  no  organs,"  and  we  all  knew  what  an  organ  was, 
and  what  a  function  was,  and  what  were  the  grand  marks  of 
distinction  between  living  and  dead  matter,  and  between 
animal  and  vegetable  life.  So  we  went  on,  with  a  little 
information  about  mining,  and  display  of  copper  ore ;  a 
talk  about  pyrites,  and  such  matters.  Three  quarters  of  an 
hour  had  slipped  away.  Charles  Dickens. 


TLGTll.  —  THE  LIFE-BOAT. 

FIRST    VOICE. 

QUICK  !  man  the  life-boat !     See  yon  bark, 
That  drives  before  the  blast ! 
There  's  a  rock  ahead,  the  fog  is  dark, 

And  the  storm  comes  thick  and  fast. 
Can  human  power,  in  such  an  hour, 
Avert  the  doom  that 's  o'er  her  1 
Her  main-mast  is  gone,  but  she  still  drives  on 
To  the  fatal  reef  before  her. 

ALL. 

The  life-boat !     Alan  the  life-boat  ! 

SECOND    VOICE. 

Quick  !  man  the  life-boat  !  hark  !  the  gun 

Booms  through  the  vapory  air  \ 
And  see  !  the  signal  flags  are  on, 

And  speak  the  ship's  despair. 
That  forked  flash,  that  pealing  crash, 

Seemed  from  the  wave  to  sweep  her  : 
She  's  on  the  rbek,  with  a  terrible  shock  — 

And  the  wail  comes  louder  and  deeper. 

ALL. 

The  life-boat !     Man  the  life-boat ! 


THE   LIFE-BOAT.  227 

THIRD    VOICE. 

Quick  !  man  the  life-boat !  See  —  the  crew 

Gaze  on  their  watery  grave  : 
Already  some,  a  gallant  few, 

Are  battling  with  the  wave  ; 
And  one  there  stands,  and  wrings  his  hands, 

As  thoughts  of  home  come  o'er  him  * 
For  his  wife  and  child,  through  the  tempest  wild, 

He  sees  on  the  heights  before  him. 

i 

ALL. 

The  life-boat !     Man  the  life-boat ! 

FOURTH    VOICE. 

Speed,  speed  the  life-boat !     Off  she  goes  ! 

And,  as  they  pulled  the  oar, 
From  shore  and  ship  a  cheer  arose 

That  startled  ship  and  shore. 
Life-saving  ark  !  yon  fated  bark 

Has  human  lives  within  her ; 
And  dearer  than  gold  is  the  wealth  untold 

Thou  'It  save  if  thou  canst  win  her. 

ALL. 

On  life-boat  !     Speed  thee,  life-boat  ! 

FIFTH    VOICE. 

Hurrah  !  the  life-boat  dashes  on, 

Though  darkly  the  reef  may  frow n  ; 
The  rock  is  there  —  the  ship  is  gone 

Full  twenty  fathoms  dbwm. 
But,  cheered  by  hope,  the  seamen  cope 

With  the  billowrs  single-handed  : 
They  are  all  in  the  boat  !  —  hurrah  !  they  're  afloat  !  — 

And  nowr  they  are  safely  landed, 
By  the  life-boat  ! 

FIRST    VOICE. 

Cheer  the  life-boat ! 

ALL. 

Hurrah  !     Hurrah  for  the  life-boat  !     - 


228 


THE  FIFTH   IlEADEK. 


XCIY.  —  THB  BOBOLINK 

!HE     happiest    bird    of    our 
1      spring,  and  one  that  rivals 
the  European  lark  in  our  estima- 
tion, is  the  bob-o-lincoln,  or  bobo- 
link as  he  is  commonly  called.     He  ar- 
rives when  Nature  is  in  all  her  freshness 
and  fragrance,  —  "  the  rains  are  over  and 
gone,  the  flowers  appear  on  the  earth,  the 
time  of  the  singing  of  birds  is  come,  and 
the  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in  the  land." 

2.  The  trees  are  now  in  their  fullest  foliage  and  bright- 
est verdure ;  the  woods  are  gay  with  the  clustered  flowers 
of  the  laurel ;  the  air  is  perfumed  by  the  sweet-brier  and 
wild-rose  ;  the  meadow  is  enameled  with  clover-blossoms ; 
while  the  young  apple,  the  peach,  and  the  plum  begin  to 
swell,  and  the  cherry  to  glow,  among  the  green  leaves. 

3.  This  is  the  chosen  season  of  revelry  of  the  bobolink. 
He  comes  amidst  the  pomp  and  fragrance  of  the  season; 


THE  BOBOLINK.  229 

his  life  seems  all  sensibility  and  enjoyment,  all  song  and 
sunshine.  He  is  to  be  found  in  the  soft  bosoms  of  the 
freshest  and  sweetest  meadows  ;  and  is  most  in  song  when 
the  clover  is  in  blossom. 

4.  He  perches  on  the  topmost  twig  of  a  tree  or  on  some 
long  flaunting  weed,  and  as  he  rises  and  sinks  with  the 
breeze,  pours  forth  a  succession  of  rich,  tinkling  notes, 
crowding  one  upon  another  like  the  outpouring  melody  of 
the  skylark,  and  possessing  the  same  rapturous  character. 

5.  Sometimes  he  pitches  from  the  summit  of  a  tree,  be- 
gins his  song  as  he  gets  upon  the  wing,  and  flutters  tremu- 
lously down  to  the  earth,  as  if  OA^ercome  with  ecstasy  at 
his  own  music.  Sometimes  he  is  in  pursuit  of  his  mate  ; 
always  in  full  song,  as  if  he  would  win  her  by  his  melody, 
and  always  with  the  same  appearance  of  intoxication  and 
delight. 

6.  Of  all  the  birds  of  our  groves  and  meadows,  the  bob- 
olink was  the  envy  of  my  boyhood.  He  crossed  my  path 
in  the  sweetest  weather,  and  the  sweetest  season  of  the 
year,  when  all  nature  called  to  the  fields,  and  the  rural  feel- 
ings throbbed  in  every  bosom. 

7.  Had  I  been  then  more  versed  in  poetry,  I  might  have 
addressed  him  in  the  words  of  Logan  to  the  cuckoo  :  — 

1 '  Sweet  bird  !  thy  bower  is  ever  green,  thy  sky  is  ever  clear  ; 
Thou  hast  no  sorrow  in  thy  note,  no  winter  in  thy  year. 
0,  could  I  fly,  I  'd  fly  with  thee  ;  we  'd  make,  on  joyful  wing, 
Our  annual  visit  round  the  globe,  companions  of  the  spring  !  " 

8.  Further  observation  and  experience  have  given  me  a 
different  idea  of  this  little  feathered  voluptuary,  which  I 
will  venture  to  impart  for  the  benefit  of  school-boy  readers 
who  may  regard  him  with  the  same  unqualified  envy  and 
admiration  which  I  once  indulged. 

9.  I  have  shown  him  only  as  I  saw  him  at  first,  in  what 
I  may  call  the  poetical  part  of  his  career,  when  he  in  a 
manner  devoted  himself  to  elegant  pursuits  and  enjoy- 
ments, and  was  a  bird  of  music  and  song  and  taste  and 
sensibility  and  refinement. 


230  THE  FIFTH  HEADER. 

10.  While  this  lasted  he  was  sacred  from  injury ;  the 
very  school-boy  would  not  fling  a  stone  at  him,  and  the 
merest  rustic  would  pause  to  listen  to  his  strain.  But 
mark  the  difference. 

11.  As  the  year  advances,  as  the  clover-blossoms  disap- 
pear, and  the  spring  fades  away  into  summer,  he  gradually 
gives  up  his  elegant  tastes  and  habits,  doffs  his  poetical 
suit  of  black,  assumes  a  russet,  dusty  garb,  and  sinks  to  the 
gross  enjoyments  of  common  vulgar  birds. 

12.  His  notes  no  longer  vibrate  on  the  ear  ;  he  is  stuff- 
ing himself  with  the  seeds  of  the  tall  weeds  on  which  lie 
lately  swung  and  chanted  so  melodiously.  He  has  become 
a  gormand.  With  him  now  there  is  nothing  like  the  "  joys 
of  the  table." 

13.  In  a  little  while  he  grows  tired  of  plain,  homely 
fare,  and  is  off  on  a  gastronomical  tour  in  quest  of  foreign 
luxuries.  We  next  hear  of  him  with  myriads  of  his  kind, 
banqueting  among  the  reeds  of  the  Delaware,  and  grown 
corpulent  with  good  feeding. 

14.  He  has  changed  his  name  in  traveling.  Bob-o- 
lincoln  no  more,  he  is  the  reed-bird  now,  the  much-sought 
titbit  of  Pennsylvania  epicures,  the  rival  in  unlucky  fame 
of  the  ortolan  !  Wherever  he  goes,  pop  !  pop  !  pop  !  every 
rusty  firelock  in  the  country  is  blazing  away.  He  sees 
his  companions  falling  by  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands 
around  him. 

15.  Does  he  take  warning  and  reform?  —  Alas,  not  he; 
Incorrigible  epicure  !  again  he  wings  his  flight.  The  rice- 
swamps  of  the  South  invite  him.  He  gorges  himself  among 
them  almost  to  bursting ;  he  can  scarcely  fly  for  corpulency. 
He  has  once  more  changed  his  name,  and  is  now  the 
famous  rice-bird  of  the  Carolinas. 

16.  Last  stage  of  his  career,  —  behold  him  spitted  with 
dozens  of  his  corpulent  companions,  and  served  up,  a 
vaunted  dish,  on  the  table  of  some  Southern  epicure. 

17.  Such  is  the  story  of  the  bobolink,  —  once  spiritual, 
musical,  admired,  the  joy  of  the  meadows,  and  the  favorite 


MARCO    BOZZARRIS.  231 

bird  of  spring  ;  finally,  a  gross  little  sensualist  who  expiates 
his  sensuality  in  the  kitchen. 

18.  His  story  contains  a  moral  worthy  the  attention  of 
all  little  birds  and  little  boys ;  warning  them  to  keep  to 
those  refined  and  intellectual  pursuits  which  raised  him  to 
so  high  a  degree  of  popularity  during  the  early  part  of  his 
career,  but  to  eschew  all  tendency  to  that  gross  and  dis- 
sipated indulg3nce  which  brought  this  mistaken  little  bird 
to  an  untimely  end.  w.  Irving. 


TLCV.  — MARCO  BOZZARIS. 

i. 

AT  midnight,  in  his  guarded  tent, 
The  Turk  was  dreaming  of  the  hour 
When  Greece,  her  knee  in  snppliance  bent, 

Should  tremble  at  his  power  : 
In  dreams  through  camp  and  court  he  bore 
The  trophies  of  a  conqueror  : 

In  dreams  his  song  of  triumph  heard  ; 
Then  wore  his  monarch's  signet  ring,  — 
Then  pressed  that  monarch's  throne,  —  a  king  • 
As  wild  his  thoughts,  and  gay  of  wing, 

As  Eden's  garden  bird. 

ii. 
At  midnight,  in  the  forest  shades, 

Bozzaris  ranged  his  Suliote  band, 
True  as  the  steel  of  their  tried  blades, 

Heroes  in  heart  and  hand. 
There  had  the  Persian  thousands  stood, 
There  had  the  glad  earth  drunk  their  blood 

On  old  Platsea's  day ; 
And  now  there  breathed  that  haunted  air 
The  sons  of  sires  who  conquered  there, 
With  arm  to  strike,  and  soul  to  dare, 

As  quick,  as  far,  as  they. 


232  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

in. 
An  hour  passed  on,  —  the  Turk  awoke  ; 

That  bright  dream  was  his  last ; 
He  woke,  to  hear  his  sentries  shriek,  — 
"  To  arms  !  —  they  come  !  —  The  Greek  !  the  Greek  : 
He  woke,  to  die  midst  flame  and  smoke, 
And  shout,  and  groan,  and  saber  stroke, 

And  death-shots  falling  thick  and  fast 
As  lightnings  from  the  mountain  cloud  ; 
And  heard,  with  voice  as  trumpet  loud, 

Bozzaris  cheer  his  band  — 
"  Strike  —  till  the  last  armed  foe  expires  ! 
Strike  —  for  your  altars  and  your  fires  ! 
Strike  —  for  the  green  graves  of  your  sires  ! 

God,  and  your  native  land  !  " 

IV. 

They  fought,  like  brave  men,  long  and  well  ; 

They  piled  the  ground  with  Moslem  slain  : 
They  conquered  ;  but  Bozzaris  fell, 

Bleeding  at  every  vein. 
His  few  surviving  comrades  saw 
His  smile,  when  rang  their  proud  hurrah, 

And  the  red  field  was  won  ; 
Then  saw  in  death  his  eyelids  close 
Calmly,  as  to  a  night's  repose, 

Like  flowers  at  set  of  sun. 

v. 
Bozzaris  !  with  the  storied  brave 

Greece  nurtured  in  her  glory's  time, 
Rest  thee  :  there  is  no  prouder  grave, 

Even  in  her  own  proud  clime. 

We  tell  thy  doom  without  a  sigh  ; 

For  thou  art  Freedom's  now,  and  Fame's,  —♦ 

One  of  the  few,  the  immortal  names, 

That  were  not  born  to  die  I 

Hallcck. 


THE   EMPEROR'S   NEW  CLOTHES.  233 

XCYI.  —  THE  EMPEROR'S  NEW  CLOTHES. 

MANY  years  ago  there  lived  an  Emperor  who  was  so 
,  excessively  fond  of  grand  new  clothes  that  he  spent 
all  his  money  upon  them,  that  lie  might  be  very  fine.  He 
had  a  coat  for  every  hour  of  the  day  ;  and  just  as  they  say 
of  a  king,  "  He  is  in  council/'  so  they  always  said  of 
him,  "  The  Emperor  is  in  the  wardrobe." 

2.  In  the  great  city  in  which  he  lived  it  was  always  very 
merry.  Every  day  came  many  strangers  :  one  day  two  rogues 
came  ;  they  gave  themselves  out  as  weavers,  and  declared 
they  could  weave  the  finest  stuff  any  one  could  imagine. 
Not  only  were  their  colors  and  patterns,  they  said,  uncom- 
monly beautiful,  but  the  clothes  made  of  the  stuff  possessed 
the  wTonderful  quality  that  they  became  invisible  to  any 
one  who  was  unfit  for  the  office  he  held,  or  was  incorrigibly 
stupid. 

3.  "Those  would  be  capital  clothes  !"  thought  the  Em- 
peror. "  If  I  wore  those,  I  should  be  able  to  find  out  what 
men  in  my  empire  are  not  fit  for  the  places  they  have ;  I 
could  tell  the  clever  from  the  dunces.  Yes,  the  stuff  must 
be  woven  for  me  directly."  And  he  gave  the  two  rogues 
a  great  deal  of  cash  in  hand,  that  they  might  begin  their 
wTork  at  once. 

4.  As  for  them,  they  put  up  two  looms,  and  pretended  to 
be  working  ;  but  they  had  nothing  at  all  on  their  looms. 
They  at  once  demanded  the  finest  silk  and  the  costliest 
gold;  this  they  put  into  their  own  pockets,  and  worked 
at  the  empty  looms  till  late  at  night. 

5  "  I  should  like  to  know  how  far  they  have  got  on  with 
the  stuff,"  thought  the  Emperor.  But  he  felt  quite  com- 
fortable when  he  thought  that  those  who  were  not  fit  for 
their  offices  could  not  see  it.  He  believed,  indeed,  that  he 
had  nothing  to  fear  for  himself,  but  yet  he  preferred  first 
to  send  some  one  else  to  see  how  matters  stood.  All  the 
people  in  the  city  knew  what  peculiar  power  the  stuff' 
possessed,  and  all  were  anxious  to  see  how  bad  or  how 
stupid  their  neighbors  wTsre.— 


234  THE  FIFTH   KEADEH. 

6.  "  I  will  send  my  honest  old  Minister  to  the  weavers," 
thought  the  Emperor.  "He  can  judge  best  how  the  stuff 
looks,  for  he  has  sense,  and  no  one  understands  his  office 
better  than  he." 

7.  Now  the  good  old  Minister  went  out  into  the  hall 
where  the  two  rogues  sat  working  at  the  empty  looms. 

8.  "  Mercy  on  us  ! "  thought  the  old  Minister,  and  he 
opened  his  eyes  wide.  "  I  cannot  see  anything  at  all ! " 
But  he  did  not  say  this. 

9.  Both  the  rogues  begged  him  to*  be  so  good  as  to  come 
nearer,  and  asked  if  he  did  not  approve  of  the  colors  and 
the  pattern.  Then  they  pointed  to  the  empty  loom,  and 
the  poor  old  Minister  went  on  opening  his  eyes  ;  but  he 
could  see  nothing,  for  there  was  nothing  to  see. 

10.  "  Mercy  ! "  thought  lie,  "  can  I  indeed  be  so  stupid  ? 
I  never  thought  that,  and  not  a  soul  must  know  it.  Am  I 
not  fit  for  my  office  ?  No,  it  will  never  do  for  me  to  tell 
that  I  could  not  see  the  stuff." 

11.  "Don't  you  say  anything  to  it?"  asked  one,  as  he 
went  on  weaving. 

12.  "  0,  it  is  charming, — quite  enchanting ! "  answered  the 
old  Minister,  as  he  peered  through  his  spectacles.  "  What 
a  fine  pattern,  and  what  colors !  Yes,  I  shall  tell  the 
Emperor  that  I  am  very  much  pleased  with  it," 

13.  "  Well,  we  are  glad  of  that,"  said  both  the  weavers ; 
and  then  they  named  the  colors,  and  explained  the  strange 
pattern.  The  old  Minister  listened  attentively,  that  he 
might  be  able  to  repeat  it  when  the  Emperor  came.  And 
he  did  so. 

14.  Now  the  rogues  asked  for  more  money  and  silk  and 
gold,  which  they  declared  they  wanted  for  weaving.  They 
put  all  into  their  own  pockets,  and  not  a  thread  was  put 
upon  the  loom  ;  they  continued  to  work  at  the  empty  frames 
as  before. 

15.  The  Emperor  soon  sent  again,  despatching  another 
honest  officer  of  the  court,  to  see  how  the  weaving  was 
going  on,  and  if  the  stuff  would  soon  be  ready.     He  fared 


THE   EMPEROR'S   NEW   CLOTHES.  235 

just  like  the  first :  he  looked  and  looked,  but,  as  there  was 
nothing  to  he  seen,  he  could  see  nothing. 

16.  "  Is  not  that  a  pretty  piece  of  stuff?  "  asked  the  two 
rogues  ;  and  they  displayed  and  explained  the  handsome 
pattern,  which  was  not  there  at  all. 

17.  "I  am  not  stupid  !"  thought  the  man;  "it  must  be 
my  good  office,  for  which  I  am  not  fit.  It  is  funny  enough, 
but  I  must  not  let  it  be  noticed."  And  so  he  praised  the 
stuff  which  he  did  not  see,  and  expressed  his  pleasure  at  the 
beautiful  colors  and  charming  pattern.  "  Yes,  it  is  enchant- 
ing," he  told  the  Emperor. 

18.  All  the  people  in  the  town  were  talking  of  the  gor- 
geous stuff.  The  Emperor  wished  to  see  it  himself  while  it 
was  still  upon  the  loom.  With  a  crowd  of  chosen  men, 
among  whom  were  also  the  two  honest  statesmen  who  had 
already  been  there,  he  went  to  the  two  cunning  rogues,  who 
were  now  weaving  with  might  and  main  without  fiber  or 
thread. 

19.  "  Is  not  that  splendid  ?  "  said  the  two  statesmen,  who 
had  already  been  there  once.  "  Does  not  your  Majesty  re- 
mark the  pattern  and  the  colors  ?  "  And  they  pointed  to 
the  empty  loom,  for  they  thought  that  the  others  could  see 
the  stuff. 

20.  "  What 's  this  ? "  thought  the  Emperor.  "  I  can  see 
nothing  at  all !  That  is  terrible  !  Am  I  stupid  ?  Am  I 
not  fit  to  be  Emperor  ?  That  would  be  the  most  dreadful 
thing  that  could  happen  to  me.  0,  it  is  very  pretty  !  "  he 
said  aloud.  "  It  has  our  highest  approbation."  And  he 
nodded  in  a  contented  way,  for  he  wTould  not  say  that  he 
saw  nothing. 

21.  The  whole  suite  whom  he  had  with  him  looked 
and  looked,  and  saw  nothing,  any  more  than  the  rest; 
but,  like  the  Emperor,  they  said,  "  That  is  pretty  ! "  and 
counseled  him  to  wear  the  splendid  new  clothes  for  the 
first  time  at  the  great  procession  that  was  presently  to 
take  place. 

22.  "  It  is  splendid,  —  excellent  ! "  went  from  mouth  to 


236  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

mouth.  On  all  sides  there  seemed  to  be  general  rejoicing, 
and  the  Emperor  gave  the  rogues  the  title  of  Imperial 
Court  Weavers. 

23.  The  whole  night  before  the  morning  on  which  the 
procession  was  to  take  place  the  rogues  were  up,  and  kept 
more  than  sixteen  candles  burning.  The  people  could  see 
that  they  were  hard  at  work,  completing  the  Emperor's 
new  clothes.  They  pretended  to  take  the  stuff  down  from 
the  loom ;  they  made  cuts  in  the  air  with  great  scissors ; 
they  sewed  with  needles  without  thread ;  and  at  last  they 
said,  "  Now  the  clothes  are  ready  ! " 

24.  The  Emperor  came  himself  with  his  noblest  cavaliers  ; 
and  the  two  rogues  lifted  up  one  arm  as  if  they  were  hold- 
ing something,  and  said, "  See  !  here  are  the  trousers  !  here  is 
the  coat !  here  is  the  cloak  ! "  and  so  on.  "  It  is  as  light  as 
a  spider's  web.  One  would  think  he  had  nothing  on ;  but 
that  is  just  the  beauty  of  it." 

25.  "  Yes,"  said  all  the  cavaliers,  admiringly. 

26.  "  Will  your  Imperial  Majesty  please  to  condescend 
to  take  off  your  clothes  ?  "  said  the  rogues  ;  "  then  we  will 
put  on  you  the  new  clothes  here  in  front  of  the  great 
mirror." 

27.  The  Emperor  took  off  his  clothes,  and  the  rogues 
pretended  to  put  on  him  each  new  garment  as  it  was 
ready;  and  the  Emperor  turned  round  and  round  before 
the  mirror. 

28.  "  0,  how  well  you  look  !  how  capitally  they  lit ! " 
said  all.  "  What  a  pattern  !  what  colors  !  That  is  a  splen- 
did dress  ! " 

29.  "  They  are  standing  outside  with  the  canopy  which  is 
to  be  borne  above  your  Majesty  in  the  procession!"  an- 
nounced the  head-master  of  the  ceremonies. 

30.  "Well,  I  am  ready,"  replied  the  Emperor.  "Does  it 
not  suit  me  well  ?  "  And  then  he  turned  again  to  the  mir- 
ror, for  he  wanted  it  to  appear  as  if  he  contemplated  his 
adornment  with  great  interest. 

31.  The  two  chamberlains,  who  were  to  carry  the  train, 


BIRDS  AND   BEES.  237 

stooped  down  with  their  hands  toward  the  floor,  just  as  if 
they  were  picking  up  the  mantle ;  then  they  pretended  to 
be  holding  something  in  the  air.  They  did  not  dare  to  let 
it  be  noticed  that  they  saw  nothing. 

32.  So  the  Emperor  went  in  procession  under  the  rich 
canopy,  and  every  one  in  the  streets  said,  "  How  incom- 
parable are  the  Emperor's  new  clothes  !  what  a  train  he 
has  to  his  mantle  !  how  it  fits  him  ! "  Xo  clothes  of  the 
Emperors  had  ever  had  such  a  success  as  these. 

33.  "But  he  has  nothing  on  !  "  a  little  child  cried  out  at 
last. 

34.  "  Just  hear  what  that  innocent  says ! "  said  the 
father ;  and  one  whispered  to  another  what  the  child  had 
said. 

35.  "  But  he  has  nothing  on  !  "  said  the  whole  people  at 
length.  That  touched  the  Emperor,  for  it  seemed  to  him 
that  they  were  right ;  but  he  thought  within  himself,  "  I 
must  go  through  with  the  procession."  And  so  he  held 
himself  a  little  higher,  and  the  chamberlains  held  on 
tighter  than   ever,  and  carried  the  train  which  did   not 

exist   at   all.  Hans  Christian  Andersen. 


XCVIL  —  BIRDS  AND  BEES. 

i. 

XLOVE  to  see  the  little  goldfinch  pluck 
The  groundsel's  feathered  seed,  and  twit,  and  twit ; 
And,  soon  in  bower  of  apple-blossoms  perched, 
Trim  his  gay  suit,  and  pay  us  with  a  song. 
I  would  not  hold  him  prisoner  for  the  world. 

ii. 
The  chimney-haunting  swallow,  too,  my  eye 
And  ear  well  pleases.     I  delight  to  see 
How  suddenly  he  skims  the  glassy  pool, 
How  quaintly  dips,  and  with  a  bullet's  speed 
Whisks  by.     I  love  to  be  awake,  and  hear 
His  morning  song  twittered  to  dawning  day. 


238  THE    FIFTH   READER. 

ill. 
But  most  of  all,  it  wins  my  admiration 
To  view  the  structure  of  this  little  work, 
A  bird's-nest.     Mark  it  well,  within,  without. 
No  tool  had  he  that  wrought,  no  knife  to  cut, 
No  nail  to  fix,  no  bodkin  to  insert, 
No  glue  to  join  ;  his  little  beak  was  all,  — 
And  yet  how  neatly  finished  !     What  nice  hand, 
With  every  implement  and  means  of  art, 
And  twenty  years'  apprenticeship  to  boot, 
Could  make  me  such  another  % 

IV. 

Mark  the  bee ; 
She,  too,  an  artist  is,  —  a  cunning  artist, 
Who  at  the  roof  begins  her  golden  work, 
And  builds  without  foundation.     How  she  toils, 
And  still  from  bed  to  bed,  from  flower  to  flower, 
Travels  the  livelong  day  !     Ye  idle  drones, 
Who  rather  pilfer  than  your  bread  obtain 
By  honest  means  like  these,  behold  and  learn 
How  grand,  how  fair,  how  honorable  it  is 
To  live  by  industry  !     The  busy  tribes 
Of  bees,  so  emulous,  are  daily  fed, 
Because  they  daily  toil.     And  bounteous  Heaven, 
Still  to  the  diligent  and  active  good, 
Their  very  labor  makes  the  cause  of  health. 

Hurdis. 


XCVIII.  —  RETUBN  OF  BRITISH  FUGITIVES, 

1782. 

I  VENTURE  to  prophesy  there  are  those  now  living 
wlio  will  see  this  favored  land  amongst  the  most  pow- 
erful on  earth,  —  able,  sir,  to  take  care  of  herself,  without 
resorting  to  that  policy  which  is  always  so  dangerous, 
though  sometimes  unavoidable,  of  calling  in  foreign  aid. 

2.    Yes,  sir,  they  will  see  her  great  in  arts  and  in  arms, 
—  her  golden  harvests  waving  over  fields  of  immeasurable 


RETURN   OF   BRITISH   FUGITIVES.  239 

extent,  her  commerce  penetrating  the  most  distant  seas, 
and  her  cannon  silencing  the  vain  boasts  of  those  who  now 
proudly  affect  to  rule  the  waves. 

3.  But,  sir,  you  must  have  men,  —  you  cannot  get  along 
without  them.  Those  heavy  forests  of  valuable  timber 
under  which  your  lands  are  groaning  must  be  cleared 
away.  Those  vast  riches  which  cover  the  face  of  your  soil, 
as  well  as  those  which  lie  hid  in  its  bosom,  are  to  be  de- 
veloped and  gathered  only  by  the  skill  and  enterprise  of 
men. 

4.  Your  timber,  sir,  must  be  worked  up  into  ships,  to 
transport  the  productions  of  the  soil  from  which  it  has 
been  cleared.  Then  you  must  have  commercial  men  and 
commercial  capital,  to  take  off  your  productions,  and  find 
the  best  markets  for  them  abroad.  Your  great  want,  sir,  is 
the  want  of  men ;  and  these  you  must  have,  and  will  haA^e 
speedily,  if  you  are  wise. 

5.  Do  you  ask  how  you  are  to  get  them  ?  Open  your 
doors,  sir,  and  they  will  come  in !  The  population  of  the 
Old  World  is  full  to  overflowing.  That  population  is 
ground,  too,  by  the  oppressions  of  the  governments  under 
which  they  live.  Sir,  they  are  already  standing  on  tiptoe 
upon  their  native  shores*,  and  looking  to  your  coasts  with  a 
wistful  and  longing  eye. 

6.  They  see  here  a  land  blessed  with  natural  and  po- 
litical advantages,  which  are  not  equaled  by  those  ,of 
any  other  country  upon  earth,  —  a  land  on  which  a  gra- 
cious Providence  hath  emptied  the  horn  of  abundance,  — 
a  land  over  which  Peace  hath  now  stretched  forth  her 
white  wings,  and  where  Content  and  Plenty  lie  down  at 
every  door. 

7.  Sir,  they  see  something  still  more  attractive  than  all 
this.  They  see  a  land  in  which  Liberty  hath  taken  up  her 
abode,  —  that  Liberty  whom  they  had  considered  as  a  fabled 
goddess,  existing  only  in  the  fancies  of  poets.  They  see 
here  a  real  divinity,  —  her  altars  rising  on  every  hand, 
throughout   these   happy  States ;   her  glories  chanted  by 


240  THE  FIFTH   READEK. 

three   millions   of  tongues/  and  the  whole  region  smiling 
under  her  blessed  influence. 

8.  Sir,  let  but  this,  our  celestial  goddess,  Liberty,  stretch 
forth  her  fair  hand  towards  the  people  of  the  Old  World, — 
tell  them  to  come,  and  bid  them  welcome,  —  and  you  will 
see  them  pouring  in  from  the  North,  from  the  South,  from 
the  East,  and  from  the  West.  Your  wilderness  will  be 
cleared  and  settled,  your  deserts  will  smile,  your  ranks  will 
be  filled,  and  you  will  soon  be  in  a  condition  to  defy  the 
powers  of  any  adversary. 

9.  But  gentlemen  object  to  any  accession  from  Great 
Britain,  and  particularly  to  the  return  of  the  British 
refugees.  Sir,  I  feel  no  objection  to  the  return  of  those 
deluded  people.  They  have,  to  be  sure,  mistaken  their  own 
interests  most  wofully  ;  and  most  wofully  have  they  suf- 
fered the  punishment  due  to  their  offenses. 

10.  But  the  relations  which  we  bear  to  them,  and  to 
their  native  country,  are  now  changed.  Their  king  hath 
acknowledged  our  independence  ;  the  quarrel  is  over,  peace 
hath  returned,  and  found  us  a  free  people.  Let  us  have  the 
magnanimity,  sir,  to  lay  aside  our  antipathies  and  prejudices, 
and  consider  the  subject  in  a  political  light. 

11.  Those  are  an  enterprising,  moneyed  people.  They 
will  be  serviceable  in  taking  off  the  surplus  produce  of 
our  lands,  and  supplying  us  with  necessaries,  during  the 
infant  state  of  our  manufactures.  Even  if  they  be  inim- 
ical to  us  in  point  of  feeling  and  principle,  I  can  see  no 
objection,  in  a  political  view,  in  making  them  tributary  to 
our  advantage. 

o 

12.  And  as  I  have  no  prejudices  to  prevent  my  mak- 
ing this  use  of  them,  so,  sir,  I  have  no  fear  of  any  mis- 
chief that  th-ey  can  do  us.  Afraid  of  them  !  —  What,  sir, 
shall  we,  who  have  laid  the  proud  British  lion  at  our 
feet,  now  be  afraid  of  his  whelps  ? 

Patrick  Henry. 


THE  WATCHER  ON   THE   TOWER.  241 

XCIH.  — THE   WATCHER    OK  THE  TOWER 

TRAVELER. 

"  ~TXT~HAT  dost  thou  see,  lone  watcher  on  the  tower  r( 

W      Is  the  day  breaking]  comes  the  wished -for  hour? 
Tell  us  the  signs,  and  stretch  abroad  thy  hand, 
If  the  bright  morning  dawns  upon  the  land." 

WATCHER. 

"  The  stars  are  clear  above  me,  scarcely  one 

Has  dimmed  its  rays  in  reverence  to  the  sun  ; 

But  yet  I  see  on  the  horizon's  verge, 

Some  fair,  faint  streaks,  as  if  the  light  would  surge-. *? 

TRAVELER. 

"  And  is  that  all,  0  watcher  on  the  tower  1 
Look  forth  again  •  it  must  be  near  the  hour. 
Dost  thou  not  see  the  snowy  mountain  copes, 
And  the  green  woods  beneath  them  on  the  slo  .« ' 

WATCHER. 

"  A  mist  envelops  them  ;  I  cannot  trace 

Their  outline ;  but  the  day  comes  on  apace, 

The  clouds  roll  up  in  gold  and  amber  flakes. 

And  all  the  stars  grow  dim.     The  moTrdng  breaks." 

TRAVELER. 

"  We  thank  thee,  lonely  watcher  on  the  tower ; 
But  look  again  ;  and  tell  us.  hour  by  hour, 
All  thou  behold  est ;  many  of  us  die 
Ere  the  day  conies  ;  0,  gine  them  a  reply  !  " 

WATCHER. 

"  I  hope,  but  cannot  tell.     I  hear  a  song, 
Vivid  as  day  itself,  and  clear  and  strong, 
As  of  a  lark  —  young  prophet  of  the  noon  — 
Pouring  in  sunlight  his  seraphic  tune." 

TRAVELER. 

"  What  doth  he  say,  0  watcher  on  the  tower '? 

Is  he  a  prophet  ]     Doth  the  dawning  hour 

Inspire  his  music  1     Is  his  chant  sublime, 

Filled  with  the  glories  of  the  future  time  ] " 
16 


242  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

WATCHER. 

"  He  prophesies  ;  —  his  heart  is  full ;  his  lay 
Tells  of  the  brightness  of  a  peaceful  day,  — 
A  day  not  cloudless,  nor  devoid  of  storm, 
But  sunny  for  the  most,  and  clear  and  warm." 

TRAVELER. 

"  We  thank  thee,  watcher  on  the  lonely  tower, 
For  all  thou  tellest.     Sings  he  of  an  hour 
When  Error  shall  decay,  and  Truth  grow  strong, 
And  Right  shall  rule  supreme,  and  vanquish  Wrong  ?  " 

WATCHER. 

"  He  sings  of  brotherhood,  and  joy,  and  peace, 
Of  days  when  jealousies  and  hate  shall  cease  ; 
When  war  shall  die,  and  man's  progressive  mind 
Soar  as  unfettered  as  its  God  designed." 

TRAVELER. 

"  Well  done  !  thou  watcher  on  the  lonely  tower! 
Is  the  day  breaking  1  dawns  the  happy  hour  ? 
We  pine  to  see  it ;  tell  us,  yet  again, 
If  the  broad  daylight  breaks  upon  the  plain  ?  " 

WATCHER. 

"  It  breaks,  it  comes ;  the  misty  shadows  fly  ; 
A  rosy  radiance  gleams  upon  the  sky  ; 
The  mountain-tops  reflect  it  calm  and  clear ; 
The  plain  is  yet  in  shade,  but  day  is  near." 


CHORUS    OF    VOICES. 

The  day  has  come,  the  hour  draws  nigh, 

We  hear  the  coming  car  ; 
Send  forth  the  glad,  exulting  cry, 

Hurrah,  hurrah,  hurrah  ! 
From  every  hill,  by  every  sea, 
In  shouts  proclaim  the  great  decree, 
"  All  chains  are  burst,  all  men  are  free  ! '' 

Hurrah,  hurrah,  hurrah  ! 


THE  CRICKET  ON  THE  HEARTH.  243 


C.  —  THE  CRICKET  OK  THE  HEARTH 

THE  Kettle  began  it !  Don't  tell  me  what  Mrs.  Peery- 
bingle  said.  I  know  better.  Mrs.  Peerybingle  may 
leave  it  on  record  to  the  end  of  time  that  she  could  n't  say 
which  of  them  began  itj  but  I  say  the  Kettle  did.  I  ought 
to  know,  I  hope  !  The  Kettle  began  it,  full  five  minutes  by 
the  little  waxy-faced  Dutch  clock  in  the  corner,  before  the 
Cricket  uttered  a  chirp. 

2.  Why,  I  am  not  naturally  positive.  Every  one  knows 
that  I  wouldn't  set  my  own  opinion  against  the  opinion  of 
Mrs.  Peerybingle,  unless  I  were  quite  sure,  on  any  account 
whatever.  Nothing  should  induce  me.  But  this  is  a  ques- 
tion of  fact.  And  the  fact  is,  that  the  Kettle  began  it,  at 
least  five  minutes  before  the  Cricket  gave  any  sign  of  being 
in  existence.     Contradict  me,  and  I  '11  say  ten. 

3.  Let  me  narrate  exactly  how  it  happened.  I  should 
have  proceeded  to  do  so,  in  my  very  first  word,  but  for  this 
plain  consideration,  —  if  I  am  to  tell  a  story  I  must  begin 
at  the  beginning ;  and  how  is  it  possible  to  begin  at  the 
beoinnino-  without  beginning  at  the  Kettle  ? 

4.  It  appears  as  if  there  were  a  sort  of  match,  or  trial 
of  skill,  you  must  understand,  between  the  Kettle  and  the 
Cricket.  And  this  is  what  led  to  it,  and  how  it  came 
about. 

5.  Mrs.  Peerybingle,  going  out  into  the  raw  twilight 
and  clicking  over  the  wet  stones  in  a  pair  of  pattens  that 
worked  innumerable  rough  impressions  of  the  first  propo- 
sition in  Euclid  all  about  the  yard,  —  Mrs.  Peerybingle 
filled  the  kettle  at  the  water-butt.  Presently  returning, 
less  the  pattens  (and  a  good  deal  less,  for  they  were  tall, 
and  Mrs.  Peerybingle  was  but  short),  she  set  the  kettle 
on  the  fire. 

6.  In  doing  which  she  lost  her  temper,  or  mislaid  it  for 
an  instant ;  for  the  water,  being  uncomfortably  cold,  and 
in  that  slippy,  slushy,  sleety  sort  of  state  wherein  it  seems 
to  penetrate  through  every  kind  of  substance,  patten-rings 


244  THE   FIFTH   KEADER. 

included,  had    laid  hold  of    Mrs.   Peerybingle's  toes,  and 
even  splashed  her  stockings. 

7.  Besides,  the  Kettle  was  aggravating  and  obstinate. 
It  would  n't  allow  itself  to  be  adjusted  on  the  top  bar ;  it 
would  n't  hear  of  accommodating  itself  kindly  to  the  knobs 
of  coal;  it  would  lean  forward  with  a  drunken  air,  and 
dribble,  a  very  idiot  of  a  Kettle,  on  the  hearth.  It  was 
quarrelsome,  and  hissed  and  spluttered  morosely  at  the  fire.< 

8.  To  sum  up  all,  the  lid,  resisting  Mrs.  Peerybingle's 
fingers,  first  of  all  turned  topsy-turvy,  and  then  with  an 
ingenious  pertinacity  deserving  of  a  better  cause,  dived 
sideways  in,  —  down  to  the  very  bottom  of  the  Kettle. 
And  the  hull  of  the  Eoyal  George  has  never  made  half 
the  monstrous  resistance  to  coming  out  of  the  water, 
which  the  lid  of  that  kettle  employed  against  Mrs.  Peeiy- 
bingle,  before  she  got  it  up  again. 

9.  It  looked  sullen  and  pig-headed  enough,  even  then  ; 
carrying  its  handle  with  an  air  of  defiance,  and  cocking  its 
spout  pertly  and  mockingly  at  Mrs.  Peerybingle,  as  if  it, 
said,  "  I  won't  boil.     Nothing  shall  induce  me  !  " 

10.  Now  it  was,  you  observe,  that  the  Kettle  began  to 
spend  the  evening.  Now  it  was,  that  the  Kettle,  growing- 
mellow  and  musical,  began  to  have  irrepressible  gurglings 
in  its  throat,  and  to  indulge  in  short  vocal  snorts,  which  it 
checked  in  the  bud,  as  if  it  had  n't  quite  made  up  its  mind 
yet  to  be  good  company.  Now  it  was,  that  after  two  or 
three  such  vain  attempts  to  stifle  its  convivial  sentiments,  it 
threw  off  all  moroseness,  all  reserve,  and  burst  into  a 
stream  of  song  so  cosey  and  hilarious,  as  never  maudlin 
nightingale  yet  formed  the  least  idea  of. 

11.  And  here,  if  you  like,  the  Cricket  did  chime  in  with 
a  chirrup,  chirrup,  chirrup  of  such  magnitude,  by  way  of 
chorus,  —  with  a  voice  so  astoundingly  disproportionate  to 
its  size  as  compared  with  the  Kettle  (size  !  you  could  n't  see 
it !)  that  if  it  had  then  and  there  burst  itself  like  an  over- 
charged gun,  if  it  had  fallen  a  victim  on  the  spot,  and 
chirruped'  its  little  body  into  fifty  pieces,  it  would  have 


THE  CRICKET   ON   THE  HEARTH.  245 

seemed  a  natural  and  inevitable  consequence,  for  which  it 
had  expressly  labored. 

12.  There  was  all  the  excitement  of  a  race  about  it. 
Chirp,  chirp,  chirp !  Cricket  a  mile  ahead.  Hum,  hum, 
hum — in — m  !  Kettle  making  play  in  the  distance,  like  a 
great  top.  Chirp,  chirp,  chirp  !  Cricket  round  the  corner. 
Hum,  hum,  hum — m — m !  Kettle  sticking  to  him  in  his  own 
way ;  no  idea  of  giving  in.  Chirp,  chirp,  chirp  !  Cricket . 
fresher  than  ever.  Hum,  hum,  hum — m — m !  Kettle  slow 
and  steady.  Chirp,  chirp,  chirp  !  Cricket  going  in  to 
finish  him.  Hum,  hum,  hum — m — m  !  Kettle  not  to  be 
finished.  Until  at  last,  they  got  so  jumbled  together,  in 
the  hurry-skurry,  helter-skelter  of  the  match,  that  whether 
the  Kettle  chirped  and  the  Cricket  hummed,  or  the  Cricket 
chirped  and  the  Kettle  hummed,  or  they  both  chirped  and 
both  hummed,  it  would  have  taken  a  clearer  head  than 
yours  or  mine  to  decide  with  anything  like  certainty. 

13.  But  of  this  there  is  no  doubt,  that  the  Kettle  and 
the  Cricket,  at  one  and  the  same  moment,  and  by  some 
power  of  amalgamation  best  known  to  themselves,  sent 
each  his  fireside  song  of  comfort  streaming  into  a  ray  of 
the  candle  that  shone  out  through  the  window,  and  a  long- 
way  down  the  lane.  And  this  light,  bursting  on  a  certain 
person  who,  on  the  instant,  approached  towards  it  through 
the  gloom,  expressed  the  whole  thing  to  him,  literally  in  a 
twinkling,  and  cried,  Welcome  home,  old  fellow  !    Welcome 

home,  my  boy  !  Dickens,  abridged. 

EXERCISE. 

1.  Let  me  narrate  exactly  how  it  happened. 

2.  I  should  have  proceeded  to  do  so,  but  for  this  plain  consider* 
ation.     [Reason.] 

3.  She  went  clicking  over  the  wet  stones  in  a  pair  of  pattens 
[Wooden  shoes  or  clogs  standing  on  iron  rings.] 

4.  The  lid  turned  topsy-turvy,  and  then  with  an  ingenious  perti- 
nacity dived  in.     [Artful  obstinacy.] 

5.  It  looked  sullen  and  pig-headed  enough. 

6.  The  kettle  burst  into  a  song  so  cosey  and  hilarious  as  never 
maudlin  nightingale  sung.     [Intoxicated.] 


246  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

CI.  —  THE  KEEPING  OF  THE  BRIDGE. 

i. 

OUT  spake  the  Consul  roundly : 
"  The  bridge  must  straight  go  down , 
For,  since  Janic'ulum  is  lost, 

Naught  else  can  save  the  town." 
Then  out  spake  brave  Hora'tius, 

The  Captain  of  the  Gate  : 
"  To  every  man  upon  this  earth 

Death  cometh  soon  or  late. 
And  how  can  man  die  better 

Than  facing  fearful  odds, 
For  the  ashes  of  his  fathers, 

And  the  temples  of  his  gods? 

ii. 

"  Hew  down  the  bridge,  Sir  Consul, 

With  all  the  speed  you  may ; 
I,  with  two  more  to  help  me, 

Will  hold  the  foe  in  play. 
In  yon  straight  path  a  thousand 

May  well  be  stopped  by  three. 
Now,  who  will  stand  on  either  hand, 

And  keep  the  bridge  with  me  ? " 

in. 
Then  out  spake  Spu'rius  Lar'tius,  — 

xl  Ram'nian  proud  was  he  : 
"  Lo,  1  will  stand  on  thy  right  hand, 

And  keep  the  bridge  with  thee." 
And  out  spake  strong  Hermin'ius,  — 

Of  Tatian  blood  was  he  : 
"  I  w7ill  abide  on  thy  left  side, 

And  keep  the  bridge  with  thee." 

IV. 

"  Horatius,"  quoth  the  Consul, 

"  As  thou  say'st,  so  let  it  be." 
And  straight  against  that  great  array 

Forth  went  the  dauntless  three. 


THE   KEEPING   OF   THE   BRIDGE.  247 

For  Romans,  in  Home's  quarrel, 

Spared  neither  land  nor  gold, 
Nor  son  nor  wife,  nor  limb  nor  life, 

In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

v. 
The  three  stood  calm  and  silent. 

And  looked  upon  the  foes, 
And  a  great  shout  of  laughter 

From  all  the  vanguard  rose. 
But  soon  Etruria's  noblest 

Felt  their  hearts  sink  to  see 
On  the  earth  the  bloody  corpses, 

In  the  path  the  dauntless  three  .; 

VI. 

Meanwhile  the  ax  and  lever 

Have  manfully  been  plied, 
And  now  the  bridge  hangs  tottering 

Above  the  boiling  tide. 
"  Come  back,  come  back,  Hora'tius  !  " 

Loud  cried  the  Fathers  all ; 
"  Back,  Lar  this  !  back,  Hermin'ius  ! 

Back,  ere  the  ruin  fall !  " 

VII. 

Back  darted  Spu'rius  Lar'tius  ; 

Herminius  darted  back; 
And,  as  they  passed,  beneath  their  feet 

They  felt  the  timbers  crack. 
But  when  they  turned  their  faces, 

And  on  the  farther  shore 
Saw  brave  Horatius  stand  alone, 

They  would  have  crossed  once  more. 

VIII. 

But,  with  a  crash  like  thunder, 

Fell  every  loosened  beam, 
And,  like  a  dam,  the  mighty  wreck 

Lay  right  athwart  the  stream  ; 


248  THE  FIFTH   READER 

And  a  long  shout  of  triumph 
Rose  from  the  walls  of  Rome, 

As  to  the  highest  turret-tops 
Was  splashed  the  yellow  foam. 

IX. 

Alone  stood  brave  Horatius, 

But  constant  still  in  mind ; 
Thrice  thirty  thousand  foes  before, 

And  the  broad  flood  behind. 
"  Down  with  him  !  "  cried  false  Sextus.. 

With  a  smile  on  his  pale  face. 
"  Now  yield  thee  !  "  cried  Lars  Por' sena, 

"  Now  yield  thee  to  our  grace." 

x. 

Round  turned  he,  as  not  deigning 

Those  craven  ranks  to  see  ; 
Naught  spake  he  to  Lars  Porsena, 

To  Sextus  naught  spake  he  ; 
But  he  saw  on  Palati'nus 

The  white  porch  of  his  home  ; 
And  he  spake  to  the  noble  river 

That  rolls  by  the  towers  of  Rome  *.  — 

XI. 

"  0  Tiber  !  Father  Tiber  ! 

To  whom  the  Romans  pray  ! 
A  Roman's  life,  a  Roman's  arms, 

Take  thou  in  charge  this  day  ! " 
So  he  spake,  and,  speaking,  sheathed 

The  good  sword  by  his  side, 
And,  with  his  harness  on  his  back, 

Plunged  headlong  in  the  tide. 

XII. 

No  sound  of  joy  or  sorrow 
Was  heard  from  either  bank ; 

But  friends  and  foes,  in  dumb  surprise. 

With  parted  lips  and  straining  eyes. 
Stood  gazing  where  he  sank  ; 


THE   KEEPING   OF   THE   BRIDGE.  249 

And  when  above  the  surges 

They  saw  his  crest  appear, 
All  Rome  sent  forth  a  rapturous  cry, 
And  even  the  ranks  of  Tuscany 

Could  scarce  forbear  to  cheer. 

XIII. 

"  Out  on  him  !  "  quoth  false  Sextus  ; 

"  Will  not  the  villain  drown  ? 
But  for  this  stay,  ere  close  of  day 

We  should  have  sacked  the  town  ! " 
"  Heaven  help  him  !  "  quoth  Lars  Por'sena. 

"And  bring  him  safe  to  shore  ; 
For  such  a  gallant  feat  of  arms 

Was  never  seen  before." 

XIV. 

And  now  the  ground  he  touches, 

Now  on  dry  earth  he  stands ; 
Now  round  him  throng  the  Fathers, 

To  press  his  gory  hands ; 
And  now,  with  shouts  and  clapping, 

And  noise  of  weeping  loud, 
He  enters  through  the  River-Gate, 

Borne  by  the  joyous  crowd. 

Lord  Macaulay. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  Straight  against  that  great  array  forth  went  the  dauntless  three 

2.  A  great  shout  of  laughter  from  all  the  vanguard  rose. 

3.  Now  the  bridge  hangs  tottering  above  the  boiling  tide. 

4.  The  mighty  wreck  lay  right  athwart  the  stream. 

5.  The  yellow  foam  was  splashed  to  the  tops  of  the  highest  turrets 

6.  He  turned  round,  as  not  deigning  to  see  those  craven  ranks. 

7.  With  his  harness  on  his  back  he  plunged  headlong  in  the  tide. 

8.  Friends  and  foes  in  dumb  surprise  stood  gazing. 

9.  They  saw  his  crest  appear  above  the  surges. 

10.  All  Rome  sent  forth  a  rapturous  cry. 

11.  The  ranks  of  Tuscany  could  scarce  forbear  to  cheer. 

12.  We  should  have  sacked  the  town,  but  for  this  stay. 

13.  The  Fathers  throng  around  him  to  press  his  gory  hands. 


250  THE  FIFTH   READER. 


CII.  —  JBIBDS. 


WE  love  birds.  When  the  first  soft  days  of  spring 
come  in  all  their  gentle  sweetness,  and  woo  us 
with  their  warmth,  and  soothe  us  with  their  smile,  then 
come  the  birds.  With  us '  they,  too,  rejoice  that  winter's 
reign  (and  snow)  is  ended.  No  one  of  the  seasons  that 
come  to  "  rule  the  varied  year  "  abdicates  his  throne  more 
to  his  subjects'  joy  than  Winter. 

2.  How  pleasant  are  the  early  hours  of  a  day  in  spring  I 
The  air  is  laden  with  the  perfect  perfume  of  a  thousand 
flowers  and  leaves  and  buds.  And  then,  besides  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  jocund  day  go  through  that  difficult  gym- 
nastic feat,  described  by  Shakespeare,  of  standing  "  tiptoe 
on  the  misty  mountain- tops,"  we  have  a  glorious  morning 
concert,  to  which  we  have  a  season  ticket. 

3.  Such  music  !  It  seems  the  pure  outpouring  of  the 
greatest  gratitude  to  Him  who  made  the  morn  so  beauti- 
ful, so  full  of  joy  and  light.  It  is  the  expression  of  most 
perfect  praise,  in  ecstasy  of  song.  Yes,  indeed,  we  love 
birds  ! 

4.  There  is  a  deal  of  pleasure  as  well  as  profit  to  be 
derived  from  studying  the  habits  and  the  character  of  birds. 
Nor  is  the  study  burdensome.  Of  all  the  lower  orders  of 
creation,  as  they  frequent  most  freely  the  haunts  and 
homes  of  men,  so  they  approach  us  nearest  in  intelligence. 
They  have  their  labors  and  amusements,  their  conjugal 
relations,  and,  like  us,  they  build  with  taste  and  skill  their 
houses ;  they  have  society,  moreover,  and  the  opera.  In 
very  many  things  they  are  our  equals,  in  some,  our  superi- 
ors ;  and  what  in  other  animals  at  best  is  only  instinct,  in 
birds  is  almost  reason. 

5.  Among  the  first  returning  tourists  from  the  south,  in 
spring,  are  these  pleasant  little  people,  the  bluebird,  martin, 
and  wren.  They  have  particular  confidence  in  man.  Nor 
is  their  confidence  misplaced  ;  for  everybody  hails  with  joy 
these  harbingers  of   spring.      Their  company  is  peculiarly 


BIRDS.  251 

agreeable,  and  they  seem  to  know  it ;  for  every  year  they 
come  again  to  occupy  the  boxes,  or  perchance  old  hats, 
which  were  put  up  for  them,  and  in  them  they  build  their 
nests,  and  there  they  live  rent  free  ;  yet  not  exactly  so,  for 
they  pay  us  with  their  notes. 

6.  Sometimes  these  little  people  have  a  deal  of  difficulty 
among  themselves  about  these  habitations.  The  martins 
come,  and  find  the  bluebirds  have  taken  all  these  places, 
and  there  is  a  disturbance  directly.  After  some  consider- 
able scolding,  and  twitting  on  facts,  the  martins  take  pos- 
session of  a  certain  portion  of  the  pigeon-cote,  and  keep  it 
too,  —  for  not  a  pigeon  dare  go  near  them,  —  while  the 
smaller  wrens  content  themselves  with  some  spare  corner 
of  the  portico,  where  they  forthwith  proceed  to  build  their 
houses,  with  all  the  architectural  skill  derived  from  their 
great  namesake,  the  builder  of  St.  Paul's.* 

7.  There  is  a  spice  of  waggish  mischief  about  the  wren 
somewhat  amusing.  Often  when  the  bluebird  has  left  his 
house,  and  gone  to  market  or  down  town,  the  wTren  peeps 
in,  and,  finding  no  one  there,  proceeds  to  amuse  himself  by 
pulling  out  the  straws  and  feathers  in  the  nest ;  but  should 
perchance  the  bluebird  come  in  sight,  the  wren  remembers 
that  there  is  something  very  interesting  going  on  around 
the  corner  of  the  barn,  that  demands  his  immediate  atten- 
tion. 

8.  These  birds  —  the  bluebird,  martin,  and  the  wren, 
together  with  the  swallows  (barn  and  chimney),  and  "  hon- 
est robin "  —  are  half  domesticated.  They  love  to  live 
near  man.  The  bluebird  and  the  robin  are  the  only  two 
among  them  who  appear  to  have  paid  much  attention  to 
the  cultivation  of  their  vocal  powers.  They  salute  the 
morning  with  sweet  songs.  The  wren  and  other  small 
birds  are  in  the  garden,  breakfasting  on  worms,  or,  as  we 
sometimes  express  it,  "  getting  their  grub." 

9.  The  martin,  meanwhile,  listens  to  the  concert,  as  a 

*  Sir  Christopher  Wren  was  the  architect  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  London. 


252  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

critic,  or  as  one  of  the  audience  ;  for  he  sits  up  in  his  pri- 
vate box,  now  and  then  uttering  an  approving  note,  as  if 
of  applause.  Indeed,  the  martin  is  not  very  musical. 
Sometimes,  in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  when  he  feels  very 
social,  he  takes  up  his  pipe,  and  then  essays  a  song.  But 
he  never  gets  beyond  the  first  few  notes  of  "  Hi  Betty 
Martin,"  and  then  goes  off  on  tiptoe. 

10.  But  here  we  have  a  jolly  little  fellow,  who  makes 
up  in  sociability  what  he  lacks  in  song.  The  small  house- 
sparrow,  or,  as  he  is  generally  known,  the  "  chippin  bird," 
comes  to  our  very  doors.  He  hops  along  the  piazza,  gath- 
ering "  crumbs  of  comfort "  and  of  bread,  and  knows  that 
not  a  soul  within  the  house,  not  even  that  "unfeeling 
school-boy,"  would  harm  a  feather  of  his  tail.  He  keeps  a 
careful  eye,  however,  on  the  cat ;  for  he  is  perfectly  aware 
that  she  would  consider  him  only  a  swallow,  and  he  does 
not  like  to  lose  his  identity. 

11.  Every  farmer  hates  the  crow,  and  we  must  acknowl- 
edge he  is  not  a  very  lovable  bird.  He  has  neither  beauty 
nor  song  ;  for  his  eternal  "  caw,  caw  ! "  is  a  note  renewed  so 
often  as  to  be  at  a  decided  discount,  Nor  has  he  civility 
of  manners  ;  and  his  ideas  concerning  private  property  are 
extremely  vague.  Yet  of  all  the  bird  tribe,  he  is  far  the 
most  intelligent.  Nor  is  he  a  hypocrite.  There  he  is, 
on  that  old  tree  by  the  roadside,  clothed  in  a  sable  suit, 
and  as  you  go  by,  looks  demure,  interesting,  and  melan- 
choly. 

12.  But  should  there  be  a  gun  in  the  bottom  of  the 
wagon,  though  it  is  covered  carefully  with  a  bundle  of 
straw,  a  blanket  over  that,  and  a  large  fat  boy  sitting  on 
top  of  all,  he  knows  it  is  there,  and,  trusty  sentinel,  alarms 
the  whole  community  of  crows  in  the  region  round  about ; 
and  away  they  wing,  "  over  the  hills  and  far  away."  "  Caw, 
caw,  caw  ! "  You  did  n't  catch  him  that  time.  He  is  very 
well  aware  that  you  intend  to  kill  him  — if  you  can.  He 
just  wants  to  see  you  try  it,  —  that 's  all. 


GIVE   ME   THE   PEOPLE.  253 

CIIL  —  GIVE  ME  THE  PEOPLE. 

i. 

SOME  love  the  glow  of  outward  show, 
The  shine  of  wealth,  and  try  to  win  it : 
The  house  to  me  may  lowly  be, 
If  I  but  like  the  people  in  it. 
What 's  all  the  gold  that  glitters  cold, 

When  linked  to  hard  and  haughty  feeling? 
Whate'er  we  're  told,  the  noblest  gold 
Is  truth  of  heart  and  honest  dealing ! 

ii. 
A  humble  roof  may  give  us  proof 

That  simple  flowers  are  often  fairest ; 
And  trees  whose  bark  is  hard  and  dark 

May  yield  us  fruit,  and  bloom  the  rarest ! 
There  's  worth  as  sure  among  the  poor 

As  e'er  adorned  the  highest  station  ; 
And  minds  as  just  as  theirs,  we  trust, 

Whose  claim  is  but  of  rank's  creation  ! 
Then  let  them  seek,  whose  minds  are  weak, 

Mere  fashion's  smile,  and  try  to  win  it  : 
The  house  to  me  may  lowly  be, 

If  I  but  like  the  people  in  it ! 

Charles  Swain.  —  Adapted. 


CIV.—  HEROISM  OF  A  MINER. 

IX  a  certain  Cornish  mine,  two  miners,  deep  down  in 
the  shaft,  were  engaged  in  putting  in  a  shot  for  blast- 
ing. They  had  completed  their  affair,  and  were  about  to 
give  the  signal  for  being  hoisted  up.  One  at  a  time  was 
all  the  assistant  at  the  top  could  manage,  and  the  second 
was  to  kindle  the  match,  and  then  mount  with  all  speed. 

2.  Now  it  chanced,  while  they  were  still  below,  that  one 
of  them  thought  the  match  too  long.  He  accordingly  tried 
to  break  it  shorter.  Taking  a  couple  of  stones,  a  flat  and 
a  sharp,  he  succeeded  in  cutting  it  the  required  length ; 
but,  horrible,  to  relate,  he  kindled  it  at  the  same  time,  while 


254  THE   FIFTH   EEADER. 

both  were  still  below  !  Both  shouted  vehemently  to  the 
man  at  the  windlass ;  both  sprang  at  the  basket.  The 
windlass  man  could  not  move  it  with  both  in  it. 

3.  Here  was  a  moment  for  poor  Miner  Jack  and  Miner 
Will !  Instant,  horrible  death  hangs  over  them.  Will 
generously  resigns  himself.  "  Go  aloft,  Jack ;  sit  down  ; 
away !  in  one  minute  I  shall  be  in  Heaven !" 

4.  Jack  bounds  aloft,  the  explosion  instantly  follows, 
bruising  his  face  as  he  looks  over ;  but  he  is  safe  above 
ground. 

5.  And  what  of  poor  Will  ?  Descending  eagerly,  they 
find  him,  as  if  by  miracle,  buried  under  rocks  which  had 
arched  themselves  over  him.  He  is  little  injured.  He  too 
is  brought  up  safe.     Well  done,  brave  Will ! 

Tliomas  Carlyle. 


CY.  —  GLAD  CHIMES. 
i. 

TWAS  sabbath  on  the  sea,  —  a  summer  sea,  — 
The  nerveless  winds  were  resting  in  their  caves, 
And,  gently  swaying  with  a  motion  free, 

Our  good  bark  yielded  to  the  breathing  waves. 

ii. 
A  weary  voyage  of  waiting  and  unrest 

Lay  all  behind  us,  gladly  overcome  ; 
Before  us,  towering  in  the  distant  West, 

Rose  the  broad  land  of  happiness  and  home. 

in. 
A  welcome  sight  to  onr  impatient  eyes,  — 

Tearful  and  eager  at  the  vexed  delay,  — 
Reading  no  promise  in  the  cloudless  skies 

That  bent  above  us  on  that  sabbath  day. 

IV. 

No  sound  disturbed  the  scene  from  shore  or  sea, 
Save  as  some  bird,  with  light  and  joyous  wing. 

Dashed  swiftly  by  with  twittering  note  of  glee, 
As  if  in  mockery  of  our  loitering. 


GLAD   CHIMES.  255 


Our  need  was  prayer ;  our  supplicating  heart 
Poured  forth  its  longings  in  a  fond  apj)eal ; 

At  length  we  felt  the  welcome  breezes  start, 
And  heard  the  water  gurgle  at  our  keel. 

VI. 

Then  cheerful  grew  the  sea,  the  rippling  blue 
Gleamed  gayly  in  the  sun's  effulgent  beam ; 

We  felt  the  springs  of  hope  and  joy  renew, 
As  love  and  home  inspired  our  waking  dream. 

VII. 

The  waning  day  was  merging  into  night, 

When,  by  the  river's  sheltering  banks  embraced, 

We  saw  the  fading  pencils  of  the  light, 

As  on  the  shore  fantastic  shapes  they  traced. 

VIII. 

Anon  above  the  trees,  whose  misty  cones 

Seemed  slumbrous  in  the  shades  that  round  them  fell, 
Swept  suddenly,  with  grand  exultant  tones, 

The  peal  sonorous  of  an  evening  bell ! 

IX. 

Nor  near,  nor  far,  but  through  the  twilight  dim, 

As  if  from  Heaven  angelic  voices  sung, 
Tuned  to  the  theme  of  some  celestial  hymn, 

That  Echo  broadly  on  the  silence  flung ! 

x. 

"  Praise  God  ! "  "  Praise  God ! "  rang  out  the  cadence  clear 

That  smote  the  holy  stillness  of  the  hour, 
And  our  rapt  souls,  entranced  the  sound  to  hear, 

Yielded  in  adoration  to  its  power. 

XI. 

Thus  may  it  be  when  life's  long  voyage  is  o'er  — 
Our  anchor  dropped  in  the  celestial  West  — 

That  we  shall  hear  from  Heaven's  sweet  bells  outpour 
Glad  chimes  of  welcome  to  its  peaceful  rest. 

B.  P.  Shillaber. 


256 


THE   FIFTH  READER. 


VV1.  —  SN0W  POWER. 

IF  any  one  should  ask  what  is  the  most  harmless  and 
innocent  thing  on  earth,  he  might  be  answered,  a  snow- 
flake.  And  yet,  in  its  own  way  of  exerting  itself,  it  stands 
among  the  foremost  powers  on  earth.  When  it  fills  the  air, 
the  sun  cannot  shine,  the  eye  becomes  powerless  ;  neither 
hunter  nor  pilot,  guide  nor  watchman,  are  any  better  than 
blind  men.  The  eagle  and  the  mole  are  on  a  level  of  vision. 
2.  All  the  kings  of  the  earth  could  not  send  forth  an 
edict  to  mankind,  saying,  "Let  labor  cease."  But  this 
white-plumed  light-infantry  clears  out  the  fields,  drives  men 
home  from  the  highway,  and  puts  half  a  continent  under 
ban.  It  is  a  despiser  of  old  landmarks  and  \erj  quietly 
unites  all  properties,  covering  up  fences,  hiding  paths  and 
roads,  and  doing  in  one  day  a  work  which  the  engineers 
and  laborers  of  the  whole  earth  could  not  do  in  years  I 


SNOW   POWER.  257 

3.  But  let  the  wind  arise,  (itself  but  the  movement  of  soft, 
invisible  particles  of  air,)  and  how  is  this  peaceful  seem- 
ing of  snow-flakes  changed !  In  an  instant  the  air  roves. 
There  is  fury  and  spite  in  the  atmosphere.  It  pelts  you, 
and  searches  you  out  in  every  fold  and  seam  of  your  gar- 
ments. It  comes  without  search-warrant  through  eacli  crack 
and  crevice  of  your  house.  It  pours  over  the  hills,  and 
lurks  down  in  valleys,  or  roads,  or  cuts,  until  in  a  night  it 
has  intrenched  itself  formidably  against  the  most  expert 
human  strength.  For  now,  lying  in  drifts  huge  and  wide, 
it  bids  defiance  to  engine  and  engineer. 

4.  All  these  thoughts,  and  a  great  many  others,  we  had 
leisure  to  spin,  last  night,  while  we  lay  within  two  miles  of 
Morristown,  1ST.  J.,  beating  away  at  a  half-mile  inclined 
plane  heaped  with  snow.  We  look  upon  the  engine  as  the 
symbol  of  human  skill  and  power.  In  its  summer  rush 
along  a  dry  track  it  would  seem  literally  invincible.  It 
comes  roaring  up  towards  you ;  it  sweeps  gigantically  past 
you,  with  the  wild  scream  of  its  whistle,  waving  the  bushes 
and  rustling  the  grass  and  flowers  on  either  side,  and  filling 
the  air  with  clouds  of  smoke  and  dust ;  and  you  look  upon 
its  roaring  course,  gradually  dying  out  of  sight  and  hearing, 
as  if  some  supernatural  development  of  Might  had  passed 
by  you  in  a  vision. 

5.  But  now  this  wonderful  thing  is  as  tame  as  a  wounded 
bird  ;  all  its  spirit  is  gone.  Xo  blow  is  struck.  The  snow 
puts  forth  no  power.  It  simply  lies  still.  That  is  enough. 
The  laboring  engine  groans  and  pushes,  backs  out  and 
plunges  in  again,  retreats  and  rushes  again. 

6.  It  becomes  entangled.  The  snow  is  everywhere.  It 
is  before  it  and  behind  it.  It  penetrates  the  whole  engine, 
is  sucked  up  in  the  draft,  whirls  in  sheets  into  the  en- 
gine-room ;  torments  the  cumbered  wheels,  clogs  the  joints, 
and,  packing  down  under  the  drivers,  it  fairly  lifts  the  pon- 
derous engine  off  from  its  feet  and  strands  it  across  the 
track !  Well  done,  snow  !  That  was  a  notable  victory  ! 
Thou  mayest  well  consent  now  to  yield  to  scraper  and 
snow-Dlow  t 


258  THE   FIFTH   HEADER. 

7.  However,  it  was  not  our  engine  that  got  off  the  track, 
%but  another  one  beyond  Morristown.  Ours  could  not  get 
off  nor  get  along.  It  could  only  push  and  stop.  The 
pushing  was  a  failure,  the  stopping  was  very  effectual.  It 
kept  us  till  nine  o'clock  before  we  reached  our  destina- 
tion. 

,  8.  In  the  morning,  returning,  we  gloried  over  the  last 
night's  struggle ;  and  shot  down  the  inclined  plane  with  a 
comfortable  velocity,  up  which  we  had  vainly  toiled  in  the 
darkness  and  snow  but  so  few  hours  before. 

9.  In  a  few  weeks  another  silent  force  will  come  forth. 
And  a  noiseless  battle  will  ensue,  in  which  this  now  vic- 
torious army  of  flakes  shall  be  itself  vanquished.  A  rain- 
drop is  stronger  than  a  snow-flake.  One  by  one,  the  armed 
drops  will  dissolve  the  crystals  and  let  forth  the  spirit  im- 
prisoned in  them.  Descending  quickly  into  the  earth,  the 
drops  shall  search  the  roots  and  give  their  breasts  to  their 
myriad  mouths.  The  bud  shall  open  its  eye.  The  leaf 
shall  lift  up  its  head.  The  grass  shall  wTave  its  spear,  and 
the  forests  hang  out  their  banners. 

10.  How  significant  is  this  silent,  gradual,  but  irresistible 
power  of  rain  and  snow,  of  moral  truth  in  this  world  ! 
"  For  as  the  rain  cometh  down,  and  the  snow  from  heaven, 
and  returneth  not  thither,  but  watereth  the  earth,  and 
maketh  it  bring  forth  and  bud,  that  it  may  give  seed  to  the 
sower  and  bread  to  the  eater ;  so  shall  my  word  be  that 
goeth  forth  out  of  my  mouth :  it  shall  not  return  unto  me 
void,  but  it  shall  accomplish  that  which  I  please,  and  it 
shall  prosper  in  the  thing  whereto  I  sent  it." 

U.   W.  Beeclier. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  All  the  kings  of  the  earth  could  not  send  forth  the  edict. 

2.  We  look  upon  the  engine  as  the  symbol  of  human   skill  and 
power. 

3.  Now  this  wonderful  thing  is  tame  as  a  wounded  bird. 

4.  We  shot  down  the  inclined  plane  with  velocity. 

5.  In  a  few  weeks  another  silent  force  will  come  forth. 

fi.    The  victorious  army  of  flakes  shall  itself  be  vanquished. 


THE   BATTLE   OF   BUNKER'S   HILL.  259 

CVII.  —  THE  BATTLE  OF  BUNKER  HILL. 

i. 

IT  was  a  starry  night  in  June,  the  air  was  soft  and  still, 
When  the  "  minute-men  "  from  Cambridge  came,  and  gath- 
ered on  the  hill ; 
Beneath  us  lay  the  sleeping  town,  around  us  frowned  the  fleet, 
But  the  pulse  of  freemen,  not  of  slaves,  within  our  bosoms  beat ; 
And  every  heart  rose  high  with  hope,  as  fearlessly  we  said, 
"  We  will  be  numbered  with  the  free,  or  numbered  with  the 
dead!'1    . 

ii. 

"  Bring  out  the  line  to  mark  the  trench,  and  stretch  it  on  the 

sward  !  " 
The  trench  is  marked,  the  tools  are  brought,  we  utter  not  a  word 
But  stack  our  guns,  then  fall  to  work  with  mattock  and  with 

spade, 
A  thousand  men  with  sinewy  arms,  and  not  a  sound  is  made  ; 
So  still  were  we,  the  stars  beneath,  that  scarce  a  whisper  fell  ; 
We  heard  the  red-coat's  musket  click,  and  heard  him  cry,  "  All 's 

well  !  " 

in. 

See  how  the  morn  is  breaking  !  the  red  is  in  the  sky ! 

The  mist  is  creeping  from  the  stream  that  floats  in  silence  by  ; 

The  Lively 's  hull  looms  through  the  fog,  and  they  our  works 
have  spied, 

For  the  ruddy  flash  and  round-shot  part  in  thunder  from  hei 
side  ; 

And  the  Falcon  and  the  Cerberus  make  every  bosom  thrill, 

With  gun  and  shell,  and  drum  and  bell,  and  boatswain's  whis- 
tle shrill ; 

But  deep  and  wider  grows  the  trench,  as  spade  and  mattock  ply, 

For  we  have  to  cope  with  fearful  odds,  and  the  time  is  drawing 
nigh  ! 

IV. 

Up  with  the  pine-tree  banner  !     Our  gallant  Prescott  stands 
Amid  the  plunging  shells  and  shot,  and  plants  it  with  his  hands  ; 
Up  with  the  shout  !  for  Putxam  comes  upon  his  reeking  bay, 
With  bloody  spur  and  foaming  bit,  in  haste  to  join  the  fray. 


200  THE   FIFTH  HEADER. 

v. 
But  thou  whose  soul  is  glowing  in  the  summer  of  thy  years, 
Unvanquishable  Warren,  thou,  the  youngest  of  thy  peers, 
Wert  born   and  bred,  and  shaped  and  made,  to  act  a  patriot's 

part, 
And  dear  to  us  thy  presence  is  as  heart's  blood  to  the  heart ! 

VI. 

Hark  !  from  the  town  a  trumpet  !     The  barges  at  the  wharf 
Are  crowded  with  the  living  freight ;  and  now  they  're  pushing 

off; 
With  clash  and  glitter,  trump  and  drum,  in  all*  its  bright  array, 
Behold  the  splendid  sacrifice  move  slowly  o'er  the  bay ! 
And  still  and  still  the  barges  fill,  and  still  across  the  deep, 
Like  thunder  clouds  along  the  sky,  the  hostile  transports  sweep. 

VII. 

And  now  they  're  forming  at  the  Point ;  and  now  the  lines  ad- 
vance : 

We  see  beneath  the  sultry  sun  their  polished  bayonets  glance ; 

We  hear  anear  the  throbbing  drum,  the  bugle-challenge  ring ; 

Quick  bursts  and  loud  the  flashing  cloud,  and  rolls  from  wing 
to  wing ; 

But  on  the  height  our  bulwark  stands,  tremendous  in  its  gloom,  — 

As  sullen  as  a  tropic  sky,  and  silent  as  a  tomb. 

VIII. 

And  so  we  waited  till  we  saw,  at  scarce  ten  rifles'  length, 
The  old  vindictive  Saxon  spite,  in  all  its  stubborn  strength  ; 
When  sudden,  flash  on  flash,  around  the  jagged  rampart  burst 
From  every  gun  the  livid  light  upon  the  foe  accursed. 
Then  quailed  a  monarch's  might  before  a  free-born  people's  ire  ; 
Then  drank  the  sward  the  veteran's  life,  where  swept  the  yeo- 
man's fire. 

IX. 

Then,  staggered  by  the  shot,  we  saw  their  serried  columns  reel, 
And  fall,  as  falls  the  bearded  rye  beneath  the  reaper's  steel ; 
And  then  arose  a   mighty  shout  that  might  have  waked   the 

dead, — 
u  Hurrah  !   they  run  !   the  field  is  won !      Hurrah  !  the  foe  is 

fled  J"   " 


the  battle  of  bunkek'S  hill  261 

x\nd  every  man  hath  dropped  his  gun  to  elutch  a  neighbor's 

hand, 
As  his  heart  kept  praying  all  the  while  for  home  and  native  land. 

x. 
Thrice  on  that  day  we  stood  the  shock  of  thrice  a  thousand  foes, 
And  thrice  that  day  within  our  lines  the  shout  of  victory  rose  ; 
And  though  our  swift  fire  slackened  then,  and,  reddening  in  the 

skies, 
We  saw  from  Charlestown's  roofs  and  walls  the  flamy  columns 

rise, 
Yet  while  we  had  a  cartridge  left,  we  still  maintained  the  fight, 
Nor  gained  the  foe  one  foot  of  ground  upon  that  blood-stained 

height. 

XI. 

What  though  for  us  no  laurels  bloom,  and  o'er  the  nameless 

brave 
No  sculptured  trophy,  scroll,  nor  hatch  records  a  warrior's  grave! 
What  though  the  day  to  us  was  lost  !  —  upon  that  deathless 

page 
The  everlasting  charter  stands  for  every  land  and  age  ! 

XII. 

For  man  hath  broke  his  felon  bonds,  and  cast  them  in  the  dust, 
And  claimed  his  heritage  divine,  and  justified  the  trust ; 
While  through  his  rifted  prison-bars  the  hues  of  freedom  pour, 
O'er  every  nation,  race,  and  clime,  on  every  sea  and  shore, 
Such  glories  as  the  patriarch  viewed,  when,  'mid  the  darkest 

skies, 
He  saw  above  a  ruined  world  the  Bow  of  Promise  rise. 

*  F.  S.   Cozzens. 


EXERCISE. 

1.  Stretch  the  line  on  the  sward,  to  mark  the  trench. 

2.  We  fall  to  wTork  with  mattock  and  spade.     [Pick-ax.] 

3.  We  have  to  cope  with  fearful  odds. 

4.  The  hostile  transports  sweep  across  the  stream. 

5.  Their  polished  bayonets  glance  beneath  the  sultry  sun. 

6.  No  sculptured  trophy,  scroll,  nor  hatch,  records  a  warrior's  grave 

7.  The  patriarch  saw  the  Bow  of  Promise  rise  above  the  world- 


262  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

CVIII.  —  A  MAM  OVERBOARD. 

OFF  the  Azores  we  were  overtaken  by  a  series  of  severe 
squalls.  We  were  preparing  ourselves  for  the  com- 
ing storm,  when  a  man,  who  was  coming  down  from  the  last 
reef,  slipped  as  he  stepped  on  the  bulwarks,  and  went  over 
backwards  into  the  waves. 

2.  In  a  moment  that  most  terrific  of  all  cries  at  sea, 
"  A  man  overboard  !  a  man  overboard ! "  flew  like  lightning 
over  the  ship.  I  sprang  upon  the  quarter-deck,  just  as  the 
poor  fellow,  with  his  "  fearful  human  face,"  riding  the  top  of 
a  billow,  fled  past. 

3.  In  an  instant  all  was  commotion ;  plank  after  plank 
was  cast  over  for  him  to  seize  and  sustain  himself  on,  till 
the  ship  could  be  put  about  and  the  boat  lowered.  The 
first  mate,  a  bold,  fiery  fellow,  leaped  into  the  boat  that 
hung  at  the  side  of  the  quarter-deck,  and  in  a  voice  so  sharp 
and  stern  that  I  seem  to  hear  it  yet,  shouted,  "  In,  men !  in, 
men ! " 

4.  But  the  poor  sailors  hung  back, — the  sea  was  too  wild. 
The  second  mate  sprang  to  the  side  of  the  first,  and  the  men, 
ashamed  to  leave  both  their  officers  alone,  followed. 

5.  "  Cut  away  the  lashings  ! "  exclaimed  the  officer.  The 
knife  glanced  round  the  ropes,  the  boat  fell  to  the  water, 
rose  on  a  huge  wave  far  over  the  deck,  and  drifted  rapidly 
astern. 

6.  The  brave  mate  stood  erect,  the  helm  in  his  hand,  his 
flashing  eye  embracing  the  whole  peril  in  a  single  glance,  and 
his  hand  bringing  the  head  of  the  gallant  little  boat  on  each 
high  sea  that  otherwise  would  have  swamped  her.  I  watched 
them  till  nearly  two  miles  astern,  when  they  lay  to,  to  look 
for  the  lost  sailor. 

7.  Just  then  I  turned  my  eyes  to  the  southern  horizon, 
and  saw  a  squall,  blacker  and  heavier  than  any  we  had  be- 
fore encountered,  rushing  down  upon  us.  The  captain  also 
saw  it,  and  was  terribly  excited. 

8.  He  called  for  a  flag,  and,  springing  into  the  shmnds, 


A   MAN   OVERBOARD.  263 

waved  it  for  their  return.     The  gallant  fellows  obeyed  the 
signal,  and  pulled  for  the  ship. 

9.  But  it  was  slow  work,  for  the  head  of  the  boat  had  to 
be  laid  on  to  almost  every  wave.  It  was  now  growing  dark, 
and  if  the  squall  should  strike  the  boat  before  it  reached 
the  vessel,  there  was  no  hope  for  it;  it  would  either  go 
down  at  once  or  drift  away  into  the  surrounding  darkness, 
to  struggle  out  the  night  as  it  could. 

10.  I  shall  never  forget  that  scene.  All  along  the  south- 
ern horizon,  between  the  black  water  and  the  blacker 
heavens,  was  a  white  streak  of  tossing  foam.  Nearer  and 
clearer  every  moment  it  boiled  and  roared  on  its  track. 

11.  I  could  not  look  steadily  on  that  gallant  little  crew, 
now  settling  the  question  of  life  and  death  to  themselves, 
and  perhaps  to  us,  who  would  be  left  almost  unmanned  in 
the  middle  of  the  Atlantic,  and  encompassed  by  a  storm. 

12.  The  sea  wras  making  fast,  and  yet  that  frail  thing 
rode  on  it  like  a  duck.  Every  time  she  sank  away  she  car- 
ried my  heart  down  with  her ;  and  when  she  remained  a 
longer  time  than  usual,  I  would  think  it  was  all  over,  and 
cover  my  eyes  with  horror  ;  the  next  moment  she  would 
appear  between  us  and  the  black  rolling  cloud,  literally 
covered  with  foam  and  spray. 

13.  The  captain  knew  that  a  few  minutes  more  would 
decide  the  fate  of  his  officers  and  crew ;  he  called  for  his 
trumpet,  and,  springing  up  the  ratlines,  shouted  out  over 
the  roar  of  the  blast  and  waves,  "  Pull  away,  my  brave 
boys ;  the  squall  is  coming !  give  way,  my  hearties  ! "  and 
the  bold  fellows  did  "  give  way  "  with  a  will. 

14.  I  could  see  their  ashen  oars  quiver  as  they  rose  from 
the  water,  while  the  lifelike  boat  sprang  to  their  strokes 
down  the  billows,  like  a  panther  on  a  leap.  On  she  came, 
and  on  came  the  blast.  It  was  the  wildest  struo'de  I  ever 
gazed  on  ;  but  the  gallant  little  boat  conquered. 

15.  0,  how  my  heart  leaped  when  she  at  length  snot 
round  the  stern,  and,  rising  on  a  wave  far  above  our  lee- 
quarter,  shook  the  water  from  her  drenched  head,  as  if  in 
delight  to  find  her  shelter  ag&inl 


264  THE   FIFTH   HEADER. 

16.  The  chains  were  fastened,  and  I  never  pulled  with 
such  right  good- will  on  a  rope  as  on  the  one  that  brought 
that  boat  up  the  vessel's  side.  As  the  heads  of  the  crew 
appeared  over  the  bulwarks,  I  could  have  hugged  the  brave 
fellows  in  transport. 

17.  As  they  stepped  on  deck,  not  a  question  was  asked, 
no  report  given ;  but  "  Forward,  men ! "  broke  from  the 
captain's  lips.  The  vessel  was  trimmed  to  meet  the  blast, 
and  we  were  again  bounding  on  our  way. 

18.  If  that  squall  had  pursued  the  course  of  all  former 
ones,  we  must  have  lost  our  crew ;  but  when  nearest  the 
boat  (and.  it  seemed  to  me  the  foam  was  breaking  not  a 
hundred  rods  off),  the  wind  suddenly  veered,  and  held  the 
cloud  in  check,  so  that  it  swung  round  close  to  our  bows. 

13.  The  poor  sailor  was  gone  ;  he  came  not  back  again. 
It  was  his  birthday  (he  Avas  twenty-five  years  old),  and, 
alas  !  it  was  his  death-day. 

20.  We  saw  him  no  more,  and  a  gloom  fell  on  the  whole 
ship.  There  were  few  of  us  in  all,  and  we  felt  his  loss.  It 
was  a  wild  and  dark  night ;  death  had  been  among  us,  and 
had  left  us  with  sad  and  serious  hearts. 

21.  As  I  walked  to  the  stern,  and  looked  back  on  the 
foam  and  tumult  of  the  vessel's  wake,  in  which  the  poor 
sailor  had  disappeared,  I  instinctively  murmured  the  mari- 
ner's hymn,  closing  with  the  sincere  prayer,  — 

"  0  sailor  boy,  sailor  boy,  peace  to  thy  soul  !  " 

Headley. 

EXERCISE. 

1.  The  mate's  flashing  eye  embraced  the  whole  peril  in  a  single 
glance. 

2.  We  were  in  the  middle  of  the  Atlantic,  encompassed  by  a  storm. 

3.  Springing  up  the  ratlines  he  shouted  out  over  the  roar  of  the 
blast. 

4.  I  could  see  their  ashen  oars  quiver  as  they  rose  from  the  water. 

5.  0,  how  my  heart  leaped  when  she  shot  round  the  stern. 

6.  The  heads  of  the  crew  appeared  over  the  bulwarks. 

7.  The  wind  suddenly  veered  and  held  the  cloud  in  check. 

8.  I  instinctively  murmured  the  mariner's  hymn. 


DOUGLAS  AND   MARMION  265 

CI?L.  — DOUGLAS  AND  MARMION* 

i. 

THE  train  from  out  the  castle  drew ; 
But  Marmion  stopped  to  bid  adieu. 
"  Though  something  I  might  plain,"  he  said, 
"  Of  cold  respect  to  stranger  guest, 
Sent  hither  by  your  king's  behest, 

While  in  Tantallon's  towers  I  stayed, 
Part  we  in  friendship  from  your  land, 
And,  noble  Earl,  receive  my  hand." 

ii. 
But  Douglas  round  him  drew  his  cloak, 
Folded  his  arms,  and  thus  he  spoke  :  — 
"  My  manors,  halls,  and  bowers  shall  still 
Be  open,  at  my  sovereign's  will, 
To  each  one  whom  he  lists,  howe'er 
Unmeet  to  be  the  owner's  peer. 
My  castles  are  my  king's  alone, 
From  turret  to  foundation  stone,  — 
The  hand  of  Douglas  is  his  own, 
And  never  shall,  in  friendly  grasp, 
The  hand  of  such  as  Marmion  clasp." 

in. 
Burned  Marmion's  swarthy  cheek  like  fire, 
And  shook  his  very  frame  for  ire  ; 

And  "  This  to  me  !  "  he  said,  — 
"  An  't  were  not  for  thy  hoary  beard, 
Such  hand  as  Marmion's  had  not  spared 

To  cleave  the  Douglas'  head  ! 
And,  first,  I  tell  thee,  haughty  peer, 
He  who  does  England's  message  here, 
Although  the  meanest  in  her  state, 
May  well,  proud  Angus,  be  thy  mate. 

IV. 

And,  Douglas,  more  I  tell  thee  here 
Even  in  thy  pitch  of  pride. 


266  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

Here  in  thy  hold,  thy  vassals  near, 

I  tell  thee,  thou  'rt  defied  ! 
And  if  thou  saidst,  I  am  not  peer 
To  any  Lord  in  Scotland  here, 
Lowland  or  Highland,  far  or  near, 

Lord  Angus,  thou  hast  lied  !  " 

v. 
On  the  Earl's  cheek  the  flush  of  rage 
O'ercame  the  ashen  hue  of  age ; 
Fierce  he  broke  forth  :    "  And  dar'st  thou  then 
To  beard  the  lion  in  his  den, 

The  Douglas  in  his  hall  1 
And  hopest  thou  hence  unscathed  to  go?  — 
No,  by  Saint  Bryde  of  Both  well,  no  !  — 
Up  drawbridge,  grooms  !  —  what,  warder,  ho  ! 

Let  the  portcullis  fall." 

VI. 

Lord  Marmion  turned,  —  well  was  his  need,  — 

And  dashed  the  rowels  in  his  steed, 

Like  arrow  thi  ough  the  archway  sprung,  — 

The  ponderous  gate  behind  him  rung  : 

To  pass  there  was  such  scanty  room, 

The  bars,  descending,  razed  his  plume. 

VII. 

The  steed  along  the  drawbridge  flies, 

Just  as  it  trembled  on  the  rise  ; 

Not  lighter  does  the  swallow  skim 

Along  the  smooth  lake's  level  brim. 

And  when  Lord  Marmion  reached  his  band, 

He  halts,  and  turns  with  clenched  hand, 

And  shouts  of  loud  defiance  pours, 

And  shook  his  gauntlet  at  the  towers. 

Walter  Scoti 


EXERCISE. 

1.  I  was  sent  hither  by  your  king's  behest. 

2.  My  manors  shall  be  open  to  each  one  whom  he  lists. 

3.  Howe'er  unmeet  to  be  the  owner's  pee* 

4.  His  very  frame  shook  for  ire, 


FIRST   GRENADIER  OF   FRANCE.  267 

CX.  —  FIRST  GRENADIER    OF  FRANCE. 

FOR  many  years  there  was  a  touching  and  beautiful 
custom  to  be  witnessed  in  a  certain  regiment  of 
French  grenadiers,  which  was  meant  to  commemorate  the 
heroism  of  a  departed  comrade.  When  the  companies 
assembled  for  parade  and  the  roll  was  called,  there  was 
one  name  to  which  its  owner  could  not  answer,  —  it  was 
that  of  La  Tour  d'Auvergne*  When  it  was  called,  the 
oldest  sergeant  present  stepped  a  pace  forward,  and,  rais- 
ing his  hand  to  his  cap,  said  proudly,  "  Died  on  the 
field  of  honor." 

2.  La  Tour  d'Auvergne  was  not  unworthy  in  life  the 
honor  thus  paid  him  after  his  death.  He  was  educated 
for  the  army,  which  he  entered  in  1767.  He  served  al- 
ways with  distinction,  but  constantly  refused  offers  of 
promotion,  saying  that  he  was  only  fit  for  the  command 
of  a  company  of  grenadiers  ;  but,  finally,  the  various  gren- 
adier companies  being  united,  he  found  himself  in  com- 
mand of  a  body  of  eight  thousand  men,  while  retaining 
only  the  rank  of  captain.  Hence  he  was  known  as  the 
first  grenadier  of  France. 

3.  When  he  was  forty  years  of  age  he  went  on  a  visit  to 
a  friend,  in  a  region  that  was  soon  to  become  the  scene  of  a 
campaign.  While  there,  he  was  busy  in  acquainting  him- 
self with  the  country,  thinking  it  not  unlikely  that  this 
knowledge  might  be  of  use  to  him,  when  he  was  astonished 
to  learn  that  the  war  had  actually  shifted  to  that  quarter. 

4.  A  regiment  of  Austrians  was  pushing  on  to  occupy 
a  narrow  pass,  the  possession  of  which  would  give  them 
an  opportunity  to  prevent  an  important  movement  of 
the  French  which  was  then  on  foot.  They  hoped  to  sur- 
prise this  post,  and  were  moving  so  rapidly  upon  it  that 
they  were  not  more  than  two  hours  distant  from  the  place 
where  he  was  staying,  and  which  they  would  have  to  pass 
in  their  march. 

5.  He  had  no  idea  of  being  captured  by  the  enemy  in 

*  Pronounced  La-toor'  do -vera. 


268  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

their  advance,  and  lie  at  once  set  off  for  the  pass.  He 
knew  that  it  was  defended  by  a  stout  tower  and  a  garrison 
of  thirty  men,  and  he  hoped  to  be  able  to  warn  these  of 
their  danger. 

6.  He  hastened  on,  and,  arriving  there,  found  the  tower  in 
a  perfect  condition.  But  it  had  just  been  vacated  by  the 
garrison,  who,  hearing  of  the  approach  of  the  Austrians, 
had  fled,  leaving  their  arms,  consisting  of  thirty  excellent 
muskets. 

7.  La  Tour  d'Auvergne  gnashed  his  teeth  with  rage  as 
he  discovered  this.  Searching  in  the  building  he  found 
several  boxes  of  ammunition  which  the  cowards  had  not 
destroyed.  For  a  moment  he  was  in  despair,  but  then, 
with  a  grim  smile,  he  began  to  fasten  the  main  door  and 
pile  against  it  such  articles  as  he  could  find. 

8.  When  he  had  done  this,  he  loaded  all  the  guns,  and 
placed  them,  together  with  a  good  supply  of  ammunition, 
under  the  loop-holes  that  commanded  the  road  by  which 
the  enemy  must  advance.  Then  he  ate  heartily  of  the 
provisions  he  had  brought  with  him,  and  sat  down  to 
wait.  He  had  absolutely  formed  the  heroic  resolution 
to  defend  the  tower  alone  against  the  enemy. 

9.  There  were  some  things  in  his  favor  in  such  an  un- 
dertaking. The  pass  was  steep  and  narrow,  and  the  enemy's 
troops  could  enter  it  only  in  double  files,  in  doing  which  they 
would  be  fully  exposed  to  the  fire  from  the  tower.  The  origi- 
nal garrison  of  thirty  men  could  easily  have  held  it  against 
a  division,  and  now  one  man  was  about  to  hold  it  against  a 
regiment. 

10.  It  was  dark  when  La  Tour  d'Auvergne  reached  the 
tower,  and  he  had  to  wait  some  time  for  the  enemy.  They 
were  longer  in  coming  than  lie  expected,  and  for  a  while  he 
was  tempted  to  believe  they  had  abandoned  the  expedi- 
tion. 

11.  About  midnight,  however,  his  practiced  ear  caught  the 
tramp  of  feet.  Every  moment  they  came  nearer,  and  at  last 
he  heard  them  entering  the  defile.     Immediately  he  dis- 


FIRST   GRENADIER   OF    FRANCE.  269 

charged  a  couple  of  muskets  into  the  darkness  to  warn  the 
enemy  that  he  knew  of  their  presence  and  intentions;  then 
he  heard  the  quick,  short  commands  of  the  officers,  and, 
from  the  sounds,  supposed  the  troops  were  retiring  from 
the  pass. 

12.  Until  the  morning  lie  was  undisturbed.  The  Aus- 
trian commander,  feeling  assured  that  the  garrison  had 
been  informed  of  his  movements,  and  was  prepared  to  re- 
ceive him,  saw  that  he  could  not  surprise  the  post  as  he 
had  hoped  to  do,  and  deemed  it  prudent  to  wait  till  day- 
light before  making  his  attack. 

13.  At  sunrise  he  called  on  the  garrison  to  surrender. 
A  grenadier  answered  the  summons.  "  Say  to  your  com- 
mander," he  said,  in  reply  to  the  messenger,  "  that  this 
garrison  will  defend  this  pass  to  the  last  extremity." 

14.  The  officer  who  had  borne  the  flag  of  truce  retired, 
and  in  about  ten  minuted  a  piece  of  artillery  was  brought 
into  the  pass.  In  order  to  bear  upon  the  tower,  it  had  to  be 
placed  directly  in  front,  and  within  easy  musket  range  of 
it.  Scarcely  was  it  got  into  position  when  a  rapid  fire 
was  opened  on  it  from  the  tower,  and  continued  with  such 
marked  effect  that  it  was  withdrawn  after  the  second  dis- 
charge, with  a  loss  of  five  men. 

15.  This  was  a  bad  beginning  ;  so,  half  an  hour  after 
the  gun  was  withdrawn,  the  Austrian  colonel  ordered  an 
assault. 

16.  As  the  troops  entered  the  defile  they  were  received 
with  so  rapid  and  accurate  a  fire,  that,  when  they  had  passed 
OA'er  half  the  distance  they  had  to  traverse,  they  had  lost 
fifteen  men.  Disheartened  by  this,  they  returned  to  the 
mouth  of  the  defile. 

17.  Three  more  assaults  were  repulsed  in  this  manner, 
and  the  enemy  by  sunset  had  lost  forty-five  men,  of  whom 
ten  were  killed. 

18.  The  firing  from  the  tower  had  been  rapid  and  accurate, 
but  the  Austrian  commander  noticed  this  peculiarity  about 
it,  —  every  shot  seemed  to  come  from  the  same  place.    For 


270  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

a  while  this  perplexed  him,  but  at  last  he  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  there  were  a  number  of  loop-holes  close  together 
in  the  tower,  so  constructed  as  to  command  the  ravine  per- 
fectly. 

19.  At  sunset  the  last  assault  was  made  and  repulsed, 
and  at  dark  the  Austrian  commander  sent  a  second  sum- 
mons to  the  garrison. 

20.  This  time  the  answer  was  favorable.  The  garrison 
offered  to  surrender  at  sunrise  the  next  morning  if  allowed 
to  march  out  with  their  arms  and  return  to  the  army 
unmolested.  After  some  hesitation,  the  terms  were  ac- 
cepted. 

21.  Meantime  La  Tour  d'Auvergne  had  passed  an  anxious 
day  in  the  tower.  He  had  opened  the  fight  with  thirty 
loaded  muskets,  but  had  not  been  able  to  discharge  them 
all.  He  had  fired  with  great  rapidity,  but  with  surprising 
accuracy,  —  for  it  was  well  known  in  the  army  that  he 
never  threw  away  a  shot. 

22.  He  had  determined  to  stand  to  his  post  until  he 
had  accomplished  his  end,  which  was  to  hold  the  place 
twenty-four  hours,  in  order  to  allow  the  French  army  time 
to  complete  its  maneuver.  After  that  he  knew  the  pass 
would  be  of  no  consequence  to  the  enemy. 

23.  The  next  day  at  sunrise  the  Austrian  troops  lined  the 
pass  in  two  files,  extending  from  the  mouth  to  the  tower, 
leaving  a  space  between  them  for  the  garrison  to  pass 
out. 

24.  The  heavy  door  of  the  tower  opened  slowly,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  a  bronzed  and  scarred  grenadier,  literally 
loaded  with  muskets,  came  out  and  passed  down  the 
line  of  troops.  He  walked  with  difficulty  under  his  heavy 
load.  To  the  surprise  of  the  Austrians  no  one  followed 
him  from  the  tower. 

25.  In  astonishment  the  Austrian  Colonel  rode  up  to 
him,  and  asked  in  French,  why  the  garrison  did  not  come 
out. 

"  I  am  the  garrison,  Colonel,"  said  the  soldier,  proudly. 


THE  SUNBEAM.  271 

26.  "  What ! "  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  "  do  you  mean  to 
tell  me  that  you  alone  have  held  that  tower  against  me  ?  " 

"  1  have  had  the  honor,  Colonel,"  was  the  reply. 

27.  "  What  possessed  you  to  make  such  an  attempt,  gren- 
adier ? " 

"  The  honor  of  France  was  at  stake." 

28.  The  Colonel  gazed  at  him  for  a  moment  with  undis- 
guised admiration.  Then,  raising  his  cap,  he  said  warmly, 
"  Grenadier,  I  salute  you.  You  have  proved  yourself  the 
bravest  of  the  brave." 

29.  The  officer  caused  all  the  arms  which  La  Tour  d'Au- 
vergne  could  not  carry  to  be  collected,  and  sent  them  with 
the  grenadier  into  the  French  lines,  together  with  a  note 
relating  the  wdiole  affair. 

30.  When  the  knowledge  of  it  came  to  the  ears  of  Na- 
poleon, he  offered  to  promote  La  Tour  d'Auvergne,  but  the 
latter  preferred  to  remain  a  grenadier. 

31.  The  brave  soldier  met  his  death  in  an  action  at 
Aberhausen*  in  June,  1800,  and  the  simple  and  express- 
ive scene  at  roll-call  in  his  regiment  was  commenced 
and  continued  by  the  express   command  of  the  Emperor. 


CXI.  —  THE  SUNBEAM. 

i. 

THOU  art  no  lingerer  in  monarch's  hall : 
A  joy  thou  art  and  a  wealth  to  all ; 
A  bearer  of  hope  unto  land  and  sea  : 
Sunbeam,  what  gift  hath  the  world  like  thee  ? 

ii. 
Thou  art  walking  the  billows,  and  ocean  smiles  ; 
Thou  hast  touched  with  glory  his  thousand  isles  ; 
Thou  hast  lit  up  the  ships,  and  the  feathery  foam. 
And  gladdened  the  sailor  like  words  from  home. 
*  Pronounced  Ah-ber-how'zen 


272 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


III. 


To  the  solemn  depths  of  the  forest  shades 
Thou  art  streaming  on  through  their  green  arcades. 
And  the  quivering  leaves  that  have  caught  thy  glow, 
Like  fireflies  glance  to  the  pools  below. 


IV. 


I  looked  on  the  mountains  :  a  vapor  lay 
Folding  their  heights  in  its  dark  array  ; 
Thou  breakest  forth,  and  the  mist  became 
A  crown  and  a  mantle  of  living  flame. 


HOME  HAPPINESS.  27c 


I  looked  on  the  peasant's  lowly  cot  : 
Something  of  sadness  had  wrapped  the  spot ; 
But  a  gleam  of  thee  on  its  casement  fell, 
And  it  laughed  into  beauty  at  that  bright  spell. 

VI. 

Sunbeam  of  summer,  0  what  is  like  thee, 
Hope  of  the  wilderness,  joy  of  the  sea  1 
One  thing  is  like  thee,  to  mortals  given,  — 
The  faith  touching  all  things  with  hues  of  heaven. 

Mrs.  Hemans. 


VKXL  —  HOME  HAPPINESS. 


LIKE  a  thing  of  the  desert,  alone  in  its  glee, 
I  make  a  small  home  seem  an  empire  to  me ; 
Like  a  bird  in  the  forest,  whose  world  is  its  nest, 
My  home  is  my  all,  and  the  center  of  rest. 
Let  Ambition  stretch  over  the  world  at  a  stride, 
Let  the  restless  go  rolling  away  with  the  tide, 
I  look  on  life's  pleasures  as  follies  at  best, 
And,  like  sunset,  feel  calm  when  I  'm  going  to  rest 


ii. 

I  sit  by  the  fire,  in  the  dark  winter's  night, 

While  the  cat  cleans  her  face  with  her  foot  in  delight. 

And  the  winds  all  a-cold,  with  rude  clatter  and  din 

Shake  the  windows,  like  robbers  who  want  to  come  in ; 

Or  else,  from  the  cold  to  be  hid  and  away, 

By  the  bright  burning  fire  see  my  children  at  play, 

Making  houses  of  cards,  or  a  coach  of  a  chair, 

While  I  sit  enjoying  their  happiness  there. 


274  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

in. 
I  walk  round  the  orchard  on  sweet  summer  eves, 
And  rub  the  perfume  from  the  black-currant  leaves, 
Which,  like  the  geranium,  when  touched,  leave  a  smell 
That  lad's-love  and  sweet-brier  can  hardly  excel. 
I  watch  the  plants  grow,  all  begemmed  with  the  shower, 
That  glitters  like  pearls  in  a  sunshiny  hour, 
And  hear  the  pert  robin  just  whistle  a  tune, 
To  cheer  the  lone  hedger  when  labor  is  done. 

IV. 

Joys  come  like  the  grass  in  the  fields  springing  there, 
Without  the  mere  toil  of  attention  and  care  ; 
They  come  of  themselves,  like  a  star  in  the  sky, 
And  the  brighter  they  shine  when  the  cloud  passes  by. 
I  wish  but  for  little,  and  find  it  all  there, 
Where  peace  gives  its  faith  to  the  home  of  the  hare, 
Who  would  else,  overcome  by  her  fears,  run  away 
From  the  shade  of  the  flower  and  the  breeze  of  the  day. 

v. 

0  the  out-of-door  blessings  of  leisure  for  me  ! 
Health,  riches,  and  joy,  it  includes  them  all  three. 
There  peace  comes  to  me,  —  I  have  faith  in  her  smile,  — 
She  's  my  playmate  in  leisure,  my  comfort  in  toil ; 
There  the  short  pasture-grass  hides  the  lark  on  its  nest, 
Though  scarcely  so  high  as  the  grasshopper's  breast ; 
And  there  its  moss-ball  hides  the  wild  honey-bee, 

And  there  joy  in  plenty  grows  riches  for  me. 

VI. 

So  I  sit  on  my  bench,  or  enjoy  in  the  shade 
My  toil  as  a  pastime,  while  using  the  spade  ; 
My  faney  is  free  in  her  pleasure  to  stray, 
Making  voyages  round  the  whole  world  in  a  day. 

1  gather  home-comforts  where  cares  never  grew, 

Like  manna  the  heavens  rain  down  with  the  dew, 

Till  I  see  the  tired  hedger  bend  wearily  by, 

Then  like  a  tired  bird  to  my  corner  I  fly. 

John  Clare. 


DEATH   OF   LITTLE   PAUL.  275 

CXIII.  —  DEATH   OF  LITTLE  PAUL. 

PAUL  had  never  risen  from  his  little  bed.  He  lay- 
there,  listening  to  the  noises  in  the  street,  quite  tran- 
quilly ;  not  caring  much  how  time  went,  but  watching  it 
and  watching  everything  about  him  with  observing  eyes. 

2.  When  the  sunbeams  struck  into  his  room  through  the 
rustling  blinds,  and  quivered  on  the  opposite  wall  like 
golden  water,  he  knew  that  evening  was  coming  on,  and  that 
the  sky  was  red  and  beautiful.  As  the  reflection  died 
away,  and  a  gloom  went  creeping  up  the  wall,  he  watched 
it  deepen,  deepen,  deepen  into  night.  Then  he  thought 
how  the  long  streets  were  dotted  with  lamps,  and  how  the 
peaceful  stars  were  shining  overhead. 

3.  His  fancy  had  a  strange  tendency  to  wander  to  the 
river,  which  he  knew  was  flowing  through  the  great  city ; 
and  now  he  thought  how  black  it  was,  and  how  deep  it 
would  look,  reflecting  the  host  of  stars,  —  and  more  than  all, 
how  steadily  it  rolled  away  to  meet  the  sea. 

4  As  it  grew  later  in  the  night,  and  footsteps  in  the 
street  became  so  rare  that  he  could  hear  them  coming, 
count  them  as  they  passed,  and  lose  them  in  the  hollow 
distance,  he  would  lie  and  watch  the  many-colored  rings 
about  the  candle,  and  wait  patiently  for  the  day.  His  only 
trouble  was,  the  swift  and  rapid  river.  He  felt  forced, 
sometimes,  to  try  to  stop  it,  —  to  stem  it  with  his  childish 
hands,  or  choke  its  way  with  sand ;  and  when  he  saw  it 
coming  on,  resistless,  he  cried  out !  But  a  word  from  Flor- 
ence, who  was  always  at  his  side,  restored  him  to  him- 
self ;  and,  leaning  his  poor  head  upon  her  breast,  he  told 
Floy  of  his  dream,  and  smiled. 

5.  When  day  began  to  dawn  again,  he  watched  for  the 
sun ;  and  when  its  cheerful  light  began  to  sparkle  in  the 
room,  he  pictured  to  himself  —  pictured!  he  saw  —  the 
high  church-towers  up  in  the  morning  sky,  the  town  reviv- 
ing, waking,  starting  into  life  once  more,  the  river  glistening 
as  it  rolled  (but  rolling  fast  as  ever),  and  the  country  bright 
with  dew. 


276  THE  FIFTH  HEADER. 

6.  Familiar  sounds  and  cries  came  by  degrees  into  the 
street  below ;  the  servants  in  the  house  were  roused  and 
busy ;  faces  looked  in  at  the  door,  and  voices  asked  his  at- 
tendants softly  how  he  w7as.  Paul  always  answered,  for 
himself,  "  I  am  better.     I  am  a  great  deal  better,  thank 

•  you  !     Tell  papa  so  !  " 

7.  By  little  and  little,  he  got  tired  of  the  bustle  of  the 
day,  the  noise  of  carriages  and  carts,  and  people  passing 
and  repassing ;  and  would  fall  asleep,  or  be  troubled  with  a 
restless  and  uneasy  sense  again  —  the  child  could  hardly 
tell  whether  this  wrere  in  his  sleeping  or  his  wraking  mo- 
ments —  of  that  rushing  river.  "  Why,  will  it  never  stop, 
Floy  ? "  he  would  sometimes  ask  her.  "  It  is  bearing  me 
away,  I  think  !  " 

8.  But  Floy  could  always  soothe  and  reassure  him  ;  and 
it  was  his  daily  delight  to  make  her  lay  her  head  down  on 
his  pillow  and  take  some  rest. 

9.  "  Now  lay  me  down,"  he  said  ;  "  and,  Floy,  come  close 
to  me  and  let  me  see  you  ! " 

10.  Sister  and  brother  wound  their  arms  around  each 
other,  and  the  golden  light  came  streaming  in,  and  fell  upon 
them,  locked  together. 

11.  "  How  fast  the  river  runs  between  its  banks  and  the 
rushes,  Floy  !  But  it 's  very  near  the  sea.  I  hear  the  waves ! 
They  always  said  so  !  " 

12.  Presently  he  told  her  that  the  motion  of  the  boat 
upon  the  stream  wras  lulling  him  to  rest.  How  green  the 
banks  were  now,  how  bright  the  flowTers  growing  on  them, 
and  how  tall  the  rushes  !  Now  the  boat  was  out  at  sea, 
but  gliding  smoothly  on.  And  now  there  was  a  shore 
before  him.     Who  stood  on  the  bank  ?  — 

13.  He  put  his  hands  together,  as  he  had  been  used  to 
do  at  his  prayers.  He  did  not  remove  his  arms  to  do  it ; 
but  they  saw  him  fold  them  so,  behind  her  neck. 

14.  "  Mamma  is  like  you,  Floy.  I  know  her  by  the 
face !  But  tell  them  that  the  print  upon  the  stairs  at 
school  is  not  divine  enough.  The  light  about  the  head  is 
shining  on  me  as  I  cm  i " 


EDINBUKGH  AFTER  FLODDEN.  277 

15.  The  golden  ripple  on  the  wall  came  back  again,  and 
nothing  else  stirred  in  the  room.  The  old,  old  fashion! 
The  fashion  that  came  in  with  our  first  garments,  and  will 
last  unchanged  until,  our  race  has  run  its  course,  and  the 
wide  firmament  is  rolled  up  like  a  scroll.  The  old,  old 
fashion,  —  Death  ! 

16.  0,  thank  God,  all  who  see  it,  for  that  older  fashion 
yet,  of  Immortality !  And  look  upon  us,  angels  of  young 
children,  with  regards  not  quite  estranged,  when  the  swift 

river  bears  US  to  the  ocean  !  Charles  Dickens. 


CXIV .  —  EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN. 

i. 

NEWS  of  battle  !  —  news  of  battle  ! 
Hark  !  't  is  ringing  down  the  street ; 
And  the  archways  and  the  pavement 

Bear  the  clang  of  hurrying  feet. 
News  of  battle  !  —  who  hath  brought  it  % 
News  of  triumph  !  —  who  should  bring 
Tidings  from  our  noble  army, 

Greetings  from  our  gallant  King  I 

ii. 
All  last  night  we  watched  the  beacons 

Blazing  on  the  hills  afar, 
Each  one  bearing,  as  it  kindled, 

Message  of  the  opened  war. 
All  night  long  the  northern  streamers 

Shot  across  the  trembling  sky  : 
Fearful  lights,  that  never  beacon 

Save  when  kings  or  heroes  die. 

in. 
News  of  battle  !  —  who  hath  brought  it  ] 

All  are  thronging  to  the  gate  ; 
"  Warder,  —  warder  !  open  quickly  ! 

Man,  —  is  this  a  time  to  wait  1 " 
And  the  heavy  gates  are  opened  : 


278  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

Then  a  murmur  long  and  loud, 
And  a  cry  of  fear  and  wonder 

Bursts  from  out  the  bending  crowd. 
For  they  see  in  battered  harness 

Only  one  hard-stricken  man ; 
And  his  weary  steed  is  wounded, 

And  his  cheek  is  pale  and  wan : 
Spearless  hangs  a  bloody  banner 

In  his  weak  and  drooping  hand  — 
What !  can  that  be  Randolph  Murray, 

Captain  of  the  city  band  ? 

IV. 

Round  him  crush  the  people,  crying, 

"  Tell  us  all,  —  0,  tell  us  true  ! 
Where  are  they  who  went  to  battle, 

Randolph  Murray,  sworn  to  you  1 
Where  are  they,  our  brothers  —  children] 

Have  they  met  the  English  foe  1 
Why  art  thou  alone,  unfollowed  ] 

Is  it  weal  or  is  it  woe  ] " 
v. 
Like  a  corpse  the  grisly  warrior 

Looks  from  out  his  helm  of  steel ; 
But  no  word  he  speaks  in  answer,  — 

Only  with  his  armed  heel 
Chides  his  weary  steed,  and  onward 

Up  the  city  streets  they  ride ; 
Fathers,  sisters,  mothers,  children, 

Shrieking,  praying  by  his  side. 
"By  the  God  that  made  thee.  Randolph! 

Tell  us  what  mischance  hath  come." 

Then  he  lifts  his  riven  banner, 

And  the  asker's  voice  is  dumb. 
***** 

VI. 

And  up  then  rose  the  Provost,  — 

A  brave  old  man  was  he, 
Of  ancient  name,  and  knightly  fame, 

And  chivalrous  decree. 


EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN.  279 

0,  woful  now  was  the  old  man's  look, 

And  he  spake  right  heavily  : 
"  Now,  Randolph,  tell  thy  tidings, 

However  sharp  they  be  ! 
Woe  is  written  on  thy  visage, 

Death  is  looking  from  thy  face  : 
Speak  !  though  it  be  of  overthrow, 

It  cannot  be  disgrace  !  " 

VII. 

Eight  bitter  was  the  agony 

That  wrung  that  soldier  proud  : 
Thrice  did  he  strive  to  answer, 

And  thrice  he  groaned  aloud. 
Then  he  gave  the  riven  banner 

To  the  old  man's  shaking  hand, 
Saying,  "  That  is  all  I  bring  ye 

From  the  bravest  of  the  land  ! 
Ay,  ye  may  look  upon  it,  — 

It  was  guarded  well  and  long, 
By  your  brothers  and  your  children, 

By  the  valiant  and  the  strong. 
One  by  one  they  fell  around  it, 

As  the  archers  laid  them  low, 
Grimly  dying,  still  unconquered, 

With  their  faces  to  the  foe. 

VIII. 

Ay  !  ye  may  well  look  upon  it,  — 

There  is  more  than  honor  there, 
Else  be  sure,  I  had  not  brought  it 

From  Jhe  field  of  dark  despair. 
Never  yet  was  royal  banner 

Steeped  in  such  a  costly  dye  ; 
It  hath  lain  upon  a  bosom 

Where  no  other  shroud  shall  lie. 
Sirs  !  I  charge  you,  keep  it  holy, 

Keep  it  as  a  sacred  thing, 
For  the  stain  ye  see  upon  it 

Was  the  life-blood  of  your  King  ! " 


280  THE  FIFTH  KEADER. 

IX. 

Woe,  woe,  and  lamentation ! 

What  a  piteous  cry  was  there ! 
Widows,  maidens,  mothers,  children, 

Shrieking,  sobbing  in  despair  ! 

x. 

"  0  the  blackest  day  for  Scotland 

That  she  ever  knew  before  ! 
0  our  King,  the  good,  the  noble, 

Shall  we  see  him  nevermore  ? 
Woe  to  us,  and  woe  to  Scotland  ! 

0  our  sons,  our  sons  and  men ! 
Surely  some  have  'scaped  the  Southron, 

Surely  some  will  come  again  ] " 
Till  the  oak  that  fell  last  winter 

Shall  uprear  its  shattered  stem, 
Wives  and  mothers  of  Dunedin, 

Ye  may  look  in  vain  for  them  ! 

W.  E.  Aytoun. 


CXV.  —  THE  BELL    OF  LIBERTY. 

THE  representatives  of  the  people  assembled  in  solemn 
conclave,  and  long  and  anxiously  surveyed  the  peril- 
ous ground  on  which  they  were  treading.  To  recede  was 
now  impossible  ;  to  go  on  seemed  fraught  with  terrible  con- 
sequences. The  result  of  the  long  and  fearful  conflict  that 
must  follow  was  more  than  doubtful.  For  twenty  days 
Congress  was  tossed  on  a  sea  of  perplexity. 

2.  At  length,  Eichard  Henry  Lee,  snaking  off  the  fetters 
that  galled  his  noble  spirit,  arose  on  the  7th  of  June,  and 
in  a  clear,  deliberate  tone,  every  accent  of  which  rang  to 
the  farthest  extremity  of  the  silent  hall,  proposed  the  fol- 
lowing resolution :  "  Resolved,  That  these  United  Colonies 
are,  and  ought  to  be,  free  and  independent  States,  and  all 
political  connection  between  us  and  the  States  of  Great 
Britain  is,  and  ought  to  be,  totally  dissolved." 


THE  BELL  OF  LIBERTY.  281 

3.  John  Adams,  in  whose  soul  glowed  the'  burning  fut- 
ure, seconded  the  resolution  in  a  speech  so  full  of  impas- 
sioned fervor,  thrilling  eloquence,  and  prophetic  power 
that  Congress  was  carried  away  before  it,  as  by  a  resistless 
wave.  The  die  was  cast,  and  every  man  was  now  com- 
pelled to  meet  the  issue.  The  resolution  was  finally  de- 
ferred till  the  1st  of  July,  to  allow  a  committee,  appointed 
for  that  purpose,  to  draft  a  Declaration  of  Independence. 

4.  When  the  day  arrived,  the  Declaration  was  taken  up 
and  debated,  article  by  article.  The  discussion  continued 
for  three  days,  and  was  characterized  by  great  excitement. 
At  length,  the  various  sections  having  been  gone  through 
with,  the  next  day,  July  4th,  was  appointed  for  action. 

5.  It  was  soon  known  throughout  the  city ;  and  in  the 
morning,  before  Congress  assembled,  the  streets  "were  filled 
with  excited  men,  some  gathered  in  groups,  engaged  in 
eager  discussion,  and  others  moving  towards  the  State 
House.  All  business  was  forgotten  in  the  momentous 
crisis  which  the  country  had  now  reached. 

6.  No  sooner  had  the  members  taken  their  seats  than  the 
multitude  gathered  in  a  dense  mass  around  the  entrance. 
The  bell-man  mounted  to  the  belfry,  to  be  ready  to  pro- 
claim the  joyful  tidings  of  freedom  as  soon  as  the  final 
vote  was  passed.  A  bright-eyed  boy  was  stationed  below 
to  give  the  signal. 

7.  Around  the  bell,  brought  from  England,  had  been 
cast  more  than  twenty  years  before  the  prophetic  motto: 

"Proclaim  Liberty  throughout  all  the  Land 
unto  all  the  inhabitants  thereof." 

Although  its  loud  clang  had  often  sounded  over  the  city, 
the  proclamation  engraved  on  its  iron  lip  had  never  yet 
been  spoken  aloud. 

8.  It  was  expected  that  the  final  vote  would  be  taken 
without  delay  ;  but  hour  after  hour  wore  on,  and  no  re- 
port came  from  that  mysterious  hall  where  the  fate  of  a 
continent  was  in  suspense.     The   multitude   grew  impa* 


282  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

tient;  the  old  man  leaned  over  the  railing,  straining  his 
eyes  downward,  till  his  heart  misgave  him  and  hope 
yielded  to  fear. 

9.  But  at  length,  at  about  two  o'clock,  the  door  of  the  hall 
opened,  and  a  voice  exclaimed,  "  It  has  passed."  The  word 
leaped  like  lightning  from  lip  to  lip,  followed  by  huzzas 
that  shook  the  building.  The  boy-sentinel  turned  to  the 
belfry,  clapped  his  hands,  and  shouted,  "  Eing  !  ring  ! " 

10.  The  desponding  bell-man,  electrified  into  life  by  the 
joyful  news,  seized  the  iron  tongue,  and  hurled  it  back- 
ward and  forward  with  a  clang  that  startled  every  heart 
in  Philadelphia  like  a  bugle-blast.  "  Clang  !  clang  ! "  the 
bell  of  Liberty  resounded  on  higher  and  clearer,  and 
more  joyous,  blending  in  its  deep  and  thrilling  vibrations, 
and  proclaiming  in  loud  and  long  accents  over  all  the 
land,  the  motto  that  encircled  it. 

11.  Glad  messengers  caught  the  tidings  as  they  floated 
out  on  the  air,  and  sped  off  in  every  direction  to  bear  them 
onward.  When  they  reached  New  York,  the  bells  rang 
out  the  glorious  news,  and  the  excited  multitude,  surging 
hither  and  thither,  at  length  gathered  around  the  Bowling 
Green,  and,  seizing  the  leaden  statue  of  George  III.,  which 
stood  there,  tore  it  into  fragments.  These  were  afterwards 
run  into  bullets,  and  hurled  against  his  Majesty's  troops. 

12.  When  the  Declaration  arrived  in  Boston,  the  people 
gathered  to  old  Faneuil  Hall  to  hear  it  read ;  and  as  the 
last  sentence  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  reader,  a  loud  shouf 
went  up,  and  soon  from  every  fortified  height  and  every 
battery  the  thunder  of  cannon  re-echoed  the  joy. 

J.  T.  Headley. 

EXERCISE. 

1.  The  representatives  assembled  in  solemn  conclave.    [Secret  council]. 

2.  They  long  and  anxiously  surveyed  the  perilous  ground. 

3.  The  result  of  the  conflict  that  must  follow  was  doubtful 

4.  All  business  was  forgotten  in  the  momentous  crisis. 

5.  The  multitude  gathered  in  a  dense  mass  around  the  entrance. 

6.  The  desponding  bell-man  was  electrified  into  life  by  the  joyful  news. 
7  Griad  messengers  sped  in  every  direction  to  bear  the  tidings. 


MINOT'S   LEDGE.  2feS 

CXVI.  —MINOT'S  LEDGE. 

i. 

LIKE  spectral  hounds  across  the  sky 
The  white  clouds  scud  before  the  storm 
And  naked  in  the  howling  night 
The  red-eyed  lighthouse  lifts  its  form. 
The  waves  with  slippery  fingers  clutch 
The  massive  tower,  and  climb  and  fall, 
And,  muttering,  growl  with  baffled  rage 
Their  curses  on  the  sturdy  wall. 

II. 

Up  in  the  lonely  tower  he  sits, 
The  keeper  of  the  crimson  hght,  — 
Silent  and  awe-struck  does  he  hear 
The  imprecations  of  the  night. 
The  white  spray  beats  against  the  panes 
Like  some  wet  ghost  that  down  the  air 
Is  hunted  by  a  troop  of  fiends 
And  seeks  a  shelter  anywhere. 

in. 

He  prays  aloud  —  the  lonely  man  — 
For  every  soul  that  night  at  sea  ; 
But  more  than  all  for  that  brave  boy 
Who  used  to  gayly  climb  his  knee,  — 
Young  Charlie  witrThis  chestnut  hair 
And  hazel  eyes  and  laughing  lip,  — 
u  May  Heaven  look  down,"  the  old  man  cries. 
"  Upon  my  son,  and  on  his  ship." 

IV. 

While  thus  w7ith  pious  heart  he  prays, 
Far  in  the  distance  sounds  a  boom,  — 
He  pauses,  and  again  there  rings 
That  sullen  thunder  through  the  room. 
A  ship  upon  the  shoals  to-night  ! 
She  cannot  hold  for  one  half-hour  ; 
But  clear  the  ropes  and  grappling-hooks. 
And  trust  in  the  Almighty  Power. 


284  THE   FIFTH   READER. 


On  the  drenched  gallery  he  stands 

Striving  to  pierce  the  solid  night ; 

Across  the  sea  the  red-eve  throws 

A  steady  crimson  wake  of  light, 

And  where  it  falls  upon  the  waves 

He  sees  a  human  head  float  by, 

With  long  drenched  curls  of  chestnut  hair, 

And  wild  but  fearless  hazel  eye. 

VI. 

,  Out  with  the  hooks  !    One  mighty  fling  ! 
Adown  the  wind  the  long  rope  curls. 
Oh  !  will  it  catch  ]    Ah  !  dread  suspense  ! 
While  the  wild  ocean  wilder  whirls. 
A  steady  pull  —     It  tightens  now  ! 
0,  his  old  heart  will  burst  with  joy, 
As  on  the  slippery  rocks  he  pulls 
The  breathing  body  of  his  boy. 

VII. 

Still  sweep  the  specters  through  the  sky, 
Still  scud  the  clouds  before  the  storm, 
Still  naked  in  the  howling  night 
The  red-eyed  lighthouse  lifts  its  form. 
Without,  the  world  is  wild  with  rage, 
Unkenneled  demons  are  abroad  ; 
But  with  the  father  and  the  son 
Within,  there  is  the  peace  of  God. 

Fitz- James  O'Brien, 


EXERCISE. 

1.  The  white  clouds  scud  across  the  sky  like  spectral  hounds. 

2.  The  waves,  with  baffled  rage,  growl  their  curses  on  the  sturdy  wall, 

3.  Awe-struck  he  hears  the  imprecations  of  the  night 

4.  For  in  the  distance  sounds  a  boom. 

5.  He  stands  on  the  drenched  gallery. 

6.  He  is  striving  to  pierce  the  solid  night. 

7.  There  is  a  crimson  wulee  of  light. 

8.  He  pidls  on  the  slippery  rocks  the  breathing  body  of  his  boy. 
-  9,  The  red-eyed  lighthouse  lifts  its  form  in  the  howling  night 


A  SEARCH   AFTER  HAPPIKESS.  285 

CXVII.  —  A  SEARCH  AFTER  HAPPINESS. 

"~1     TOW  happy  I'll  be  to-morrow!"  exclaimed  little 
j    1     Slycler  Downehylle,  in  anticipation  of  Christmas 

— ':  O,  how  happy  I  shall  be  to-morrow  !  " 

%    "  Could  n't  you  contrive  to  be  happy  a  little  now  ?  " 

replied  Uncle  John,  who  had  learned  somewhat  to  distrust 

anticipation  and  its  gorgeous  promises. 

3.  "  Happy  now,  Uncle  John  I "  retorted  little  Slydei 
Downehylle,  rather  contemptuously,  —  "  happy  now^ !  what 
with,  I  should  like  to  know,  —  what  shall  I  be  happy  with 

—  now  ?  Where  are  the  cakes,  the  candy,  the  pies,  — 
where  the  hobby-horse  that  somebody  's  going  to  give  me, 

—  and  all  the  Christmas  gifts  ?  How  I  wish  to-morrow 
was  here  !  What  a  long  day,  —  what  a  long  evening,  — 
what  a  great  while  I  Ve  got  to  sleep  !" 

4.  Little  Slyder  Downehylle  became  quite  cross,  and 
Uncle  John  whistled.  Twenty-four  hours  afterwards,  little 
Slyder  Downehylle  was  still  more  cross  ;  he  had  been 
happy  with  candy,  with  cakes,  and  with  pies,  until  he  was 
very  uncomfortable  indeed ;  he  had  been  happy  with  toys 
until  he  had  quarreled  with  his  little  companions,  and 
strewed  the  room  with  broken  playthings  ;  he  had  been 
happy  with  his  hobby-horse  until  he  got  a  fall. 

5.  "  0,  what  a  stupid  day ! "  said  little  Slyder  Downe- 
hylle. "  I  wish  to-morrow  would  come,  —  1 11  be  so  happy 
at  Aunt  Betsy's." 

6.  It  was  always  so  with  the  unfortunate  Slyder  Downe- 
hylle. Throughout  life  he  wanted  something  to  be  happy 
with  ;  and,  strangely  enough,  it  universally  occurred,  that, 
when  he  had  obtained  the  thing,  it  did  not  prove  to  be 
exactly  the  thing  he  wanted.  His  expectations  were  never 
realized,  and  he  was,  therefore,  constantly  in  a  state  of 
disappointment.  Unlucky  Slyder  Downehylle  !  It  was 
deplorable,  too,  that  such  should  be  the  case,  for  Slyder 
Downehylle  was  anxious  to  be  happy, —  he  was  always 
looking  forward  to  be  happy,  —  for  something  to  be  happy 
with 


286  THE   FIFTH   READEK. 

7.  At  school,  he  was  always  thinking  how  happy  ho 
would  be  on  Saturday  afternoon ;  but  then  sometimes  it 
rained  on  Saturday  afternoon,  or  his  companions  would  not 
do  as  he  wished  them  to  do,  or  it  may  be  that  although 
he  had  toiled  hard  for  pleasure,  —  and  the  toil  for  pleasure 
is  often  the  severest  of  work,  —  he  returned  home  weary, 
dispirited,  and  out  of  temper.  Of  course,  it  was  unavoid- 
able that  his  pleasure  should  be  postponed  until  some  other 
Saturday  afternoon. 

8.  If  Slyder  Downehylle  went  a-fishing,  why,  a  treach- 
erous bank  would  often  give  way  ;  and  then  —  pray  who 
can  possibly  be  happy  when  dripping  wet  with  his  clothes 
on  ?  Nobody  but  poodles.  What  felicity  is  there  in  losing 
one's  shoe  in  a  swamp  ?  Then,  if  Slyder  Downehylle  went 
skating,  it  not  unfrequently  happened  that  he  cried  with 
cold.  What  a  strange  arrangement  it  is  not  to  have  the 
best  of  skating  on  the  warmest  days  ! 

9.  The  young  Downehylle,  finding  that  happiness  eluded 
his  grasp  while  a  boy,  made  sure  of  throwing  a  noose 
over  its  head  when  he  should  be  a  man.  May  not  a  man 
do  as  he  pleases  ?  —  go  to  bed  when  he  pleases,  and  get 
up  when  he  pleases  ?  eat  what  he  pleases,  and  drink  what 
he  pleases  ?  A  man  is  not  compelled  to  learn  lessons.  All 
his  afternoons  are  Saturday  afternoons ;  his  holidays  last 
all  the  year  round.  Who  would  not  be  a  man  ?  "  I  want 
to  be  a  man  ! "  cried  Slyder  Downehylle,  with  impatience. 

10.  And  Slyder  Downehylle  was  a  man  at  last,  though, 
on  the  whole,  it  must  be  confessed  that  he  did  not  derive 
the  satisfaction  from  the  circumstance  that  he  had  been 
led  to  expect. 

11.  In  theorizing  on  happiness,  he  thought  it  was,  to 
some  degree,. vehicular,  —  that,  like  respectability,  it  was  to 
be  found  in  a  gig  if  it  were  to  be  found  anywhere.  So  he 
bought  him  a  sulky  and  a  fast  trotter,  —  a  mile  in  twc 
minutes,  or  thereabouts.  What  could  escape  a  man  who 
followed  so  rapidly  ? 

12.  "Aha!    that's  it!"  muttered    Slyder  Downehylle. 


A   SEAECH   AFTER   HAPPINESS.  287 

as  lie  tugged  at  the  reins,  and  went  whizzing  along  the 
turnpike  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  passing  everything  on  the  road, 
and  spreading  consternation  among  the  pigs,  the  ducks,  and 
the  chickens. 

13.  "  Now  I  'm  happy,"  said  Slyder  Downehylle,  as  he 
stood  on  the  portico  of  the  "  Cottage,''  and  saw  every  eye 
fixed  with  admiration  on  his  establishment,  as  the  boy  led 
his  horse  and  sulky  through  the  crowd  of  vehicles.  "  That 's 
it  at  last !  " 

14.  "There,  —  let  him  go!"  said  he,  tossing  a  half-dol- 
lar to  the  hostler's  deputy.  Mr.  Downehylle's  sulky  flew 
like  lightning  across  the  lawn. 

*  Splendid ! "  ejaculated  the  spectators. 

The  clogs  barked  ;  the  colored  gentlemen  grinned  from 
ear  to  ear.  There  was  quite  a  sensation  at  the  "  Cot- 
tage." 

15.  "That's  it,  at  last!"  said  Slyder  Downehylle,  tri- 
umphantly. But  he  forgot  that  existence,  short  as  it  is, 
cannot  be  crowded  all  into  the  exhilarating  moment  of  a 
"  start."  He  wished  to  shave  the  gate-post,  in  his  cur- 
ricular  enthusiasm,  —  to  astonish  the  natives  with  his 
charioteering  skill.  Mr.  Downehylle  was  out  in  his  cal- 
culation by  about  the  sixteenth  part  of  an  inch.  He  was 
on  a  lee  shore. 

16.  A  cloud  of  splinters  went  up  and  came  down  again. 
"  There  is  but  a  Frenchman  the  more  in  Trance,"  said  a 
Bourbon  on  the  restoration.  It  was  also  quite  evident  that 
there  was  a  sulky  the  less  in  existence. 

17.  "That's  not  it,  after  all,"  murmured  Mr.  Slyder 
Downehylle,  as  he  was  carried  into  the  "  Cottage  "  for  sur- 
gical aid. 

18.  The  bystanders,  lately  so  full  of  admiration,  now 
wisely  nodded  their  heads  as  if  to  say,  —  "We  are  not  sur- 
prised; we  thought  it  would  come  to  this."  —  Greatness 
always  falls  when  it  meets  with  an  upset. 

19.  "What  could  you  expect  from  a  fellow  that  holds 
his  elbow  so  when  he  drives?"  was  the  general   remark. 


288  THE  FIFTH  HEADER. 

When  we  are  down,  every  one  can  see  the  reason  why 
The  world  is  always  full  of  sagacity,  after  the  event. 

20.  He  was  puzzled.  What  could  be  the  matter  ?  He 
was  a  man,  a  man  of  cash,  —  money  in  both  pockets  ;  but 
yet  Slyder  Downehylle  was  not  happy,  —  not  particularly 
happy.  On  the  contrary,  striking  an  average,  he  was,  for 
the  most  part,  decidedly  miserable.  He  yawned  about  all 
the  morning  ;  he  was  not  hungry  in  the  afternoon  ;  he  was 
seldom  sleepy  at  night.     Vexatious  ! 

21.  "  There 's  something  I  want,"  thought  Slyder  Downe- 
hylle ;  "  what  it  is,  that 's  more  than  I  can  tell,  but  it  is 
something  to  be  happy  with.  What  other  people  get  for 
the  purpose,  that  they  go  grinning  about  so,  I  cannot  dis- 
cover." 

22.  It  was  not  exactly  kind  in  Uncle  John  and  Aunt 
Betsy,  though  they  thought  it  was,  to  bequeath  their 
savings  to  Slyder  Downehylle.  Their  legacy  perplexed 
him  sadly.  He  discovered,  in  a  very  short  time,  that 
money  is  not  in  itself,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  it  is 
generally  known  as  the  "  one  thing  needful,"  the  material 
of  happiness.  But  he  was  clear  in  his  own  mind  that  this 
was  something  to  be  got  with  money.  Still,  however,  he 
could  not  find  it,  —  that  "  something  to  be  happy  with," 
—  that  cake,  that  candy,  that  sugar-ice,  that  hobby-horse. 
When  his  game  was  run  down,  why,  it  was  only  a  fox, 
after  all. 

23.  It  was  in  vain  that  he  intermingled  his  pleasures, 
took  them  in  alternation,  over  ate  in  the  morning,  and 
over  drank  in  the  evening,  or  reversed  the  process,  turning 
the  bill  of  fare  upside  down.  It  came  all  to  the  same  thing 
in  the  end. 

24.  Slyder  Downehylle  had  never  tried  gambling ;  but, 
on  the  recommendation  of  his  friend,  he  did  try  it,  and 
thought  that  he  rather  liked  it.  In  short,  it  improved 
upon  acquaintance.  The  "  something  to  be  happy  with  " 
had,  to  all  appearance,  been  found.  But  the  top  of  our 
speed  brings  the  end  of  the  race.     He  who  moves  most 


A   SEARCH   AFTER  HAPPINESS.  289 

rapidly  is  the  soonest  at  the  close  of  his  career.  Fortune 
is  fickle,  and  Slyder  Downehylle,  in  Ins  zeal  to  pile  enjoy- 
ment upon  enjoyment,  —  to  be  happy,  if  possible,  with 
several  things  at  a  time,  —  had,  unluckily,  a  habit  of  drink- 
ing •  deep ;  and,  as  his  head  became  warm,  the  "  cool " 
amounts  in  his  pockets  melted  away. 

25.  Slyder  Downehylle  was  now  a  cashless  man;  his 
researches  after  felicity  had  not  only  proved  unsuccessful, 
but  had  left  him  without  the  means  of  future  progression. 
He  was  swamped,  as  it  were,  in  sight  of  port. 

26.  He  is  sadly  emaciated,  and  in  all  respects  consider- 
ably the  worse  for  wear ;  while  a  hollow  cough  indicates 
that  his  physical  capabilities  have  proved  inadequate  to 
the  requirements  of  his  method  of  employing  life,  and 
are  fast  dropping  to  pieces.  Slyder  Downehylle  is  conse- 
quently more  miserable  than  ever.  He  is  troubled  with 
doubts.  Perhaps  he  may  have  proceeded  upon  an  error  ; 
perhaps  the  principle  —  the  high-pressure  principle  —  of 
his  action  was  not  the  right  one. 

27.  It  may  be  that  excitement  is  not  happiness  ;  that 
our  pleasures  are  fleeting  in  proportion  to  their  intensity ; 
that,  indeed,  if  "  life  be  a  feast,"  the  amount  of  satisfaction 
to  be  derived  from  it  is  rather  diminished  than  increased 
by  swallowing  the  viands  hastily,  and  by  having  a  free 
recourse  to  condiments  ;  and  that  a  physical  economy  is  as 
wise  and  as  necessary  \o  well-being  as  economy  of  any 
other  kind. 

28.  He  is  almost  led  to  suppose  that  his  "  something  to 
be  happy  with  "  is  a  fallacy  ;  he  never  could  hold  it  within 
his  grasp  ;  and  he  inclines  to  the  belief  that  a  man  proba- 
bly does  well  to  have  a  home  in  himself,  that  he  may  not 
always  be  compelled  to  run  abroad  for  recreation,  or  to 
appeal  to  his  senses  to  give  vivacity  to  the  hour.  If  it 
were  his  luck  to  begin  again  —  But  that  hollow  cough  ! 
Our  experiences  oft  reach  their  climax  too  late ;  yet  others 
may  learn  from  the  example  of  Slyder  Downehylle. 

^  Joseph  Q.  Neal. 


290  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

CXVIII.  —  BARBARA   FRIETCHIE. 


"TT^TP  from  the  meadows  rich  with  corn, 
V_J     Clear  in  the  cool  September  morn, 
The  clustered  spires  of  Frederick  stand 
Green-walled  by  the  hills  of  Maryland. 

ii. 
Round  about  them  orchards  sweep, 
Apple  and  peach  tree  fruited  deep, 
Fair  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord 
To  the  eyes  of  the  famished  rebel  horde, 
On  that  pleasant  morn  of  the  early  fall 
When  Lee  marched  over  the  mountain-wall,  - 
Over  the  mountains  winding  down, 
Horse  and  foot,  into  Frederick  town. 

in. 
Forty  flags  with  their  silver  stars, 
Forty  flags  with  their  crimson  bars, 
Flapped  in  the  morning  wind  :   the  sun 
Of  noon  looked  down,  and  saw  not  one. 

IV. 

Up  rose  old  Barbara  Frietchie  then, 
Bowed  with  her  threescore  years  and  ten  ; 
Bravest  of  all  in  Frederick  town, 
She  took  up  the  flag  the  men  hauled  down  ; 
In  her  attic  window  the  staff  she  set, 
To  show  that  one  heart  was  loyal  yet. 

v. 
Up  the  street  came  the  rebel  tread, 
Stonewall  Jackson  Riding  ahead. 
Under  his  slouched  hat  left  and  right 
He  glanced  :  the  old  flag  met  his  sight. 
"  Halt !  "  —  the  dust-brown  ranks  stood  fast. 
"  Fire  !  "  —  out  blazed  the  rifle-blast. 
It  shivered  the  window,  pane  and  sash  ; 
It  rent  the  banner  with  seam  and  sash. 


BARBARA   FlilETCHIE.      .  291 

VI. 

Quick,  as  it  fell  from  the  broken  staff, 
Dame  Barbara  snatched  the  silken  scarf ; 
She  leaned  far  out  on  the  window-sill, 
And  shook  it  forth  with  a  royal  will. 
"  Shoot,  if  you  must,  this  old  gray  head, 
But  spare  your  country's  flag,"  she  said. 

VII. 

A  shade  of  sadness,  a  blush  of  shame, 
Over  the  face  of  the  leader  came ; 
The  nobler  nature  within  him  stirred 
To  life  at  that  woman's  deed  and  word,  — 
"  Who  touches  a  hair  of  yon  gray  head 
Dies  like  a  dog  !    March  on  !  "  he  said. 

VIII. 

All  day  long  through  Frederick  street 
Sounded  the  tread  of  marching  feet  ; 
All  day  long  that  free  flag  tossed 
Over  the  heads  of  the  rebel  host. 
Ever  its  torn  folds  rose  and  fell 
On  the  loyal  winds  that  loved  it  well  ; 
And  through  the  hill-gaps  sunset  light 
Shone  over  it  with  a  warm  good-night. 

IX. 

Barbara  Frietchie's  work  is  o'er, 

And  the  rebel  rides  on  his  raids  no  more. 

Honor  to  her  !  and  let  a  tear 

Fall,  for  her  sake,  on  Stonewall's  bier. 

Over  Barbara  Frietchie's  grave, 

Flag  of  Freedom  and  Union,  wave  ! 

Peace  and  order  and  beauty  draw 

Round  thy  symbol  of  light  and  law ; 

And  ever  the  stars  above  look  down 

On  thy  stars  below  in  Frederick  town  ! 

J.  G.   TVhittier. 


292  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

CXIX.  —  MORNING   VISITS. 

ONE  day,  when  I  was  sitting  quite  snug  with  nry 
mother,  and  she  was  occupied  in  writing  to  my 
sister  who  was  absent  from  home,  I  spied  at  the  end  of 
the  avenue  a  group  of  pedestrians  slowly  making  up  to 
Grumblethorpe  Hall,  apparently  dressed  in  their  best  bibs 
and  tuckers  for  a  morning  visit.  Thinks  I  to  myself,  here 's 
some  agreeable  company  coming  to  my  dear  mamma !  how 
kind  it  is  of  her  neighbors  to  call  in  upon  her  thus,  and 
not  leave  her  to  i^ope  away  her  time  by  herself,  as  though 
she  were  buried  alive  ! 

2.  Not  being  willing,  however,  to  run  any  risk  of  dis- 
appointing her,  I  waited  patiently  till  I  saw  them  happily 
advanced  beyond  the  turning  to  the  village,  and  was,  there- 
fore, certain  that  they  were  really  coming  to  see  my  dear 
mother  ;  and  then  I  hastily  turned  round  to  her,  exclaim- 
ing, "Here's  ever  so  many  people  coming,  mamma,"  — 
thinking  to  delight  her  very  heart.  "People  coming," 
says  she  ;  "  I  hope  not."  "  Yes,  indeed,  they  are,"  says  'I ; 
"  one,  two,  three,  four  ladies,  a  little  boy,  and  two  pug-dogs, 
I  do  declare  ! " 

3.  "  Bless  me,"  says  my  mother,  "  how  provoking  !  it  is 
certainly  Mrs.  Fidget  and  her  daughters,  and  that  trouble- 
some child,  and  now  I  can't  finish  my  letter  to  your  sister 
before  the  post  goes  !  I  heartily  wish  they  would  learn 
to  stay  at  home,  and  let  one  have  one's  time  to  one's  self ! " 

4.  Thinks  I  to  myself,  my  poor  mother  seems  not  much 
to  like  their  coming ;  I  am  afraid  that  Mrs.  and  the  Misses 
Fidget  will  meet  with  rather  an  unkindly  reception  ;  how- 
ever, I  plainly  saw  that  there  was  no  stopping  them, — 
they  got  nearer  and  nearer,  —  the  walking  was  not  over 
clean,  and  my  mother  was  the  neatest  woman  in  the  world. 
Thinks  I  to  myself,  the  pug-dogs  will  dirty  the  room. 

5.  At  last  they  arrived  ;  the  servant  ushered  them  in  ; 
sure  enough,  it  was  Mrs.  and  the  Misses  Fidget,  and  the 
troublesome  child,  and  all.     Mrs.   Fidget   ran  up  to  my 


MORNING   VISITS.  293 

mother  as  though  she  would  have  kissed  her,  so  glad  did 
she  seem  to  see  her.  My  mother  (bless  her,  honest  crea- 
ture !)  rose  from  her  seat,  and  greeted  them  most  civilly. 
"  This  is  very  kind  ■  indeed,  Mrs.  Fidget,"  says  she,  "  and  I 
esteem  it  a  great  favor.  I  had  no  idea  you  would  have 
walked  so  far ;  I  am  delighted  to  see  yon." 

6.  Miss  Fidget  assured  her  she  might  take  it  as  a  par- 
ticular favor,  for  she  had  not  done  such  a -thing,  she  be- 
lieved,  for  the  last  six  months,  and  she  would  never  have 
attempted  it  now  to  visit  anybody  else  1 

7.  Thinks  I  to  myself,  then,  Mrs.  Fidget,  you  have  lost 
your  labor.  "  And  now,"  says  she,  "  how  I  am  to  get  home 
•again  I  am  sure  I  cannot  tell,  for  I  am  thoroughly  used 
up."  Thinks  I  to  myself,  my  dear  mother  won't  much  like 
to  hear  that ;  but  I  was  mistaken,  for,  turning  to  Mrs. 
Fidget,  she  said  with  the  greatest  marks  of  complacency, 
"  That 's  good  hearing  for  us ;  then  we  shall  have  the 
pleasure  of  your  company  to  dinner.  Mr.  Dermot  will  be 
delighted  when  he  comes  home  to  find  you  all  here." 

8.  "  0,  you  are  very  good,"  says  Mrs.  Fidget,  "  but  I  must 
return,  whether  I  can  walk  or  not;  only  I  fear  I  must 
trouble  you  with  a  longer  visit  than  may  be  agreeable." 
"  The  longer  the  better,"  says  my  dear  mother.  Thinks  I 
to  myself,  that 's  a  bouncer  ! 

9.  While  my  mother  and  Mrs.  Fidget  were  engaged  in 
this  friendly  and  complimentary  conversation,  the  Misses 
Fidget  were  lifting  up  the  little  boy  to  a  cage  in  which  my 
mother's  favorite  canary-bird  hung,  and  the  boy  was  sedu- 
lously poking  his  fingers  through  the  wires  of  the  cage,  to 
the  great  alarm  and  annoyance  of  the  poor  little  animal. 

10.  Thinks  I  to  myself,  my  mother  will  wish  you  behind 
the  fire  presently,  young  gentleman ;  but  no  such  thing,  for 
just  at  that  moment  she  turned  round,  and,  seeing  how  he 
was  occupied,  asked  if  the  cage  should  be  taken  down  to 
amuse  him. 

11.  "  He  is  a  sweet  boy,  Mrs.  Fidget ;  how  old  is  he  ? ,s 
"Just  turned   of  four,"  says  Mrs.   Fidget.     "  Only  four/' 


294  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

says  my  mother ;  "  he  is  a  remarkably  fine,  strong  boy  for 
that  age  !  "  "  He  is  indeed  a  fine  child/'  says  Mrs.  Fidget ; 
"  but  don't,  my  dear,  do  that,"  says  she, "  you  frighten  the  pool 
bird."  As  the  Misses  Fidget  were  about  to  put  him  down, 
mother  ventured  to  assure  them  that  he  would  do  no  harm. 
"  Pretty  little  fellow,"  says  she, "  pray  let  him  amuse  himself." 

12.  Mrs.  Fidget  being  rested,  they  all  prepared  to  go 
My  mother,  however,  urged  that  if  they  would  but  stay  a 
little  longer,  my  father  would  be  home  from  his  ride,  and 
he  would  be  greatly  mortified  to  miss  seeing  them;  but 
nothing  would  do,  —  go  they  must. 

13.  Thinks  I  to  myself,  now  a  fig  for  your  friendship, 
Mrs.  Fidget.  What !  not  stay  when  my  mother  so  ear- 
nestly presses  it !  Not  stay  when  she  declares  your  going 
will  mortify  my  worthy  father  !  No  ;  nothing  would  stop 
them.  Away  they  went.  Not,  indeed,  without  sundry 
promises  on  their  part  soon  to  call  again,  and  divers  most 
earnest  entreaties  on  my  mother's  on  no  account  to  forget  it. 

14.  They  were  scarcely  out  of  the  front  door  before 
my  father  entered.  "  Are  they  really  all  gone  at  last  ? " 
says  he ;  "  I  thought  they  would  have  stayed  till  doomsday. 
Who  in  the  world  were  they  all  ?  "  "  0  dear,"  says  my 
mother ;  "  why,  Mrs.  Fidget  and  all  her  tribe,  —  girls  and 
boy,  and  two  pug-dogs."  "  Thank  my  stars  I  escaped 
them  ! "  says  my  father.  Thinks  I  to  myself,  great  symp- 
toms of  mortification  my  dear  father  shows  at  having  had 
the  misfortune  to  miss  seeing  them. 

15.  "I  declare,"  says  my  mother,  " it  is  abominable  to 
break  in  upon  one  in  this  manner  ;  it  was  impossible  to 
entertain  such  a  group,  for  while  Mrs.  Fidget  and  I  were 
engaged  in  conversation,  her  young  people  and  the  dogs 
had  nothing  to  do  but  to  tease  the  bird  and  dirty  the  furni- 
ture. That  little  monkey  of  a  boy  is  always  in  mischief, 
I  could  freely  have  boxed  his  ears  for  him.  I  thought  he 
would  have  killed  my  poor  bird.  I  think  she  11  lose  that 
boy ;  I  never  saw  such  a  puny,  sickly-looking  child  in  all 
my  life."  Thinks  I  to  myself,  0  poor  Mrs.  Fidget ;  fine 
Stout  boy  of  its  age  I  Dr.  Naves- 


THE   HUNTERS. 


295 


CXX.  —  THE  HUNTERS. 


IN  the  bright  October  morning 
Savoy's  Duke  had  left  his  bride. 
From  the  Castle,  past  the  drawbridge, 
Flowed  the  hunters'  merry  tide. 


Steeds  are  neighing,  gallants  glittering. 

Gay,  her  smiling  lord  to  greet, 
Froin  her  mullioned  chamber  casement 

Smiles  the  Duchess  Marguerite. 


296  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

in. 

From  Vienna  by  the  Danube 

Here  she  came,  a  bride,  in  spring. 

Now  the  autumn  crisps  the  forest ; 
Hunters  gather,  bugles  ring. 

IV. 

Hark  !  the  game  's  on  foot,  they  scatter  \ 
Down  the  forest  ridings  lone, 

Furious,  single  horsemen  gallop. 

Hark  !  a  shout  —  a  crash  —  a  groan  ! 

v. 
Pale  and  breathless,  came  the  hunters  3 

On  the  turf,  dead  lies  the  boar, 
But  the  Duke  lies  stretched  beside  him, 

Senseless,  weltering  in  his  gore. 

VI. 

In  the  dull  October  evening, 

Down  the  leaf-strewn  forest  road, 

To  the  Castle,  past  the  drawbridge, 
Came  the  hunters  with  their  load. 

VII. 

In  the  hall,  with  sconces  blazing, 
Ladies  waiting  round  her  seat, 

Clothed  in  smiles,  beneath  the  dais 
Sat  the  Duchess  Marguerite. 

VIII. 

Hark  !  below  the  gates  unbarring  ! 

Tramp  of  men  and  quick  commands  !  — 
"  'T  is  my  lord  come  back  from  hunting.'2' 

And  the  Duchess  claps  her  hands. 

IX. 

Slow  and  tired,  came  the  hunters  \ 
Stopped  in  darkness  in  the  court.  — 

"  Ho,  this  way,  ye  laggard  hunters  ! 

To  the  hall !     What  sport,  what  sport  J" 


LIFE  WITHOUT  FREEDOM.  297 

x. 

Slow  they  entered  with  their  Master ; 

In  the  hall  they  laid  him  down. 
On  his  coat  were  leaves  and  blood-stains. 

On  his  brow  an  angry  frown. 

XI. 

Dead  her  princely  youthful  husband 

Lay  before  his  youthful  wife ; 
Bloody  "neath  the  flaring  sconces  : 

And  the  sight  froze  all  her  life. 

XII. 

In  Vienna  by  the  Danube 

Kings  hold  revel,  gallants  meet. 
Gay  of  old  amid  the  gayest 

Was  the  Duchess  Marguerite. 

XIII. 

In  Vienna  by  the  Danube 

Feast  and  dance  her  youth  beguiled.  _ 

Till  that  hour  she  never  sorrowed ; 

But  from  then  she  never  smiled. 

Matthew  Arnold. 


CXXL—  LIFE    WITHOUT  FREEDOM. 

FROM  life  without  freedom,  say,  who  would  not  fly  ? 
For  one  day  of  freedom,  0,  who  would  not  die  1 
Hark  !  —  hark  !  't  is  the  trumpet !  the  call  of  the  brave, 
The  death-song  of  tyrants,  the  dirge  of  the  slave, 
Our  country  lies  bleeding,  —  haste,  haste  to  her  aid ; 
One  arm  that  defends  is  worth  hosts  that  invade. 

In  death's  kindly  bosom  our  last  hope  remains,  — 
The  dead  fear  no  tyrants,  the  grave  has  no  chains. 
On,  on  to  the  combat !  the  heroes  that  bleed 
For  virtue  and  mankind  are  heroes  indeed. 
And  0,  even  if  freedom  from  this  world  be  driven, 
Despair  not,  —  at  least  we  shall  find  her  in  Heaven. 

T.  Moore- 


298  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

CXXII  —  THE  IRISH-DISTURBANCE  BILL. 

I  DO  not  rise  to  fawn  or  cringe  to  this  house.  I  do  not 
rise  to  supplicate  you  to  be  merciful  towards  the  na- 
tion to  which  I  belong,  —  towards  a  nation  which,  though 
subject  to  England,  yet  is  distinct  from  it.  It  is  a  distinct 
nation  ;  it  has  been  treated  as  such  by  this  country,  as 
may  be  proved  by  history,  and  by  seven  hundred  years  of 
tyranny. 

.  2.  I  call  upon  this  house,  as  you  value  the  liberty  of 
England,  not  to  allow  the  present  nefarious  bill  to  pass. 
In  it  are  involved  the  liberties  of  England,  the  liberty 
of  the  press,  and  of  every  other  institution  dear  to  Eng- 
lishmen. 

3.  Against  the  bill  I  protest  in  the  name  of  this  Irish 
people,  and  in  the  face  of  Heaven.  I  treat  with  scorn  the 
puny  and  pitiful  assertions  that  grievances  are  not  to  be 
complained  of,  that  our  redress  is  not  to  be  agitated !  for,  in 
such  cases,  remonstrances  cannot  be  too  strong,  agitation 
cannot  be  too  violent,  to  show  to  the  world  with  what  in- 
justice our  fair  claims  are  met,  and  under  what  tyranny  the 
people  suffer. 

4.  There  are  two  frightful  clauses  in  this  bill.  The  one 
which  does  away  with  trial  by  jury,  and  which  I  have  called 
upon  you  to  baptize :  you  call  it  a  court-martial,  —  a  mere 
nickname ;  I  stigmatize  it  as  a  revolutionary  tribunal. 
What,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  is  it,  if  it  is  not  a  revolution- 
ary tribunal  ? 

5.  It  annihilates  the  trial  by  jury ;  it  drives  the  judge 
from  his  bench,  —  the  man  who,  from  experience,  could 
weigh  the  nice  and  delicate  points  of  a  case ;  who  could  dis- 
criminate between  the  straightforward  testimony  and  the 
suborned  evidence ;  who  could  see,  plainly  and  readily,  the 
justice  or  injustice  of  the  accusation. 

6.  It  turns  out  this  man  who  is  free,  unshackled,  un- 
prejudiced; who  has  no  previous  opinions  to  control  the 
clear  exercise  of  his  duty.     You  do  away  with  that  which 


THE   IRISH-DISTURBANCE   BILL.  299 

is  more  sacred  than  the  throne  itself,  —  that  for  which  your 
king  reigns,  your  lords  deliberate,  your  commons  as- 
semble. 

7.  If  ever  I  doubted  before  of  the  success  of  our  agita- 
tion for  repeal,  this  bill,  this  infamous  bill,  the  way  in 
which  it  has  been  received  by  the  house,  the  manner  in 
which  its  opponents  have  been  treated,  the  personalities  to 
which  they  have  been  subjected,  the  yells  with  which  one 
of  them  has  this  night  been  greeted,  —  all  these  things  dis- 
sipate my  doubts,  and  tell  me  of  its  complete  and  early 
triumph. 

8.  Do  you  think  those  yells  will  be  forgotten  ?  Do  you 
suppose  their  echo  will  not  reach  the  plains  of  my  injured 
and  insulted  country ;  that  they  will  not  be  whispered  in 
her  green  valleys,  and  heard  from  her  lofty  hills  ? 

9.  0,  they  will  be  heard  there  !  Yes  ;  and  they  will  not 
be  forgotten.  The  youth  of  Ireland  will  bound  with  indig- 
nation :  they  will  say,  "  We  are  eight  millions ;  and  you 
treat  us  thus,  as  though  we  were  no  more  to  your  country 
than  the  isle  of  Guernsey  or  of  Jersey  !  " 

10.  I  have  done  my  duty ;  I  stand  acquitted  to  my  con- 
science and  my  country ;  I  have  opposed  this  measure 
throughout ;  and  I  now  protest  against  it  as  harsh,  oppres- 
sive, uncalled  for,  unjust,  —  as  establishing  an  infamous 
precedent  by  retaliating  crime  against  crime,  —  as  tyran- 
nous, cruelly  and  vindictively  tyrannous. 

Daniel  (JConnell. 

EXERCISE. 

1.  I  do  not  rise  to  fawn  or  cringe  to  this  house. 

2.  I  do  not  rise  to  supplicate  you  to  be  merciful. 

3.  I  call  upon  you  not  to  allow  this  nefarious  bill  to  pass. 

4.  I  treat  with  scorn  the  puny  and  pitiful  assertions  that  grievances 
are  not  to  be  complained  of. 

5.  I  stigmatize  it.     [Set  a  mark  of  disgrace  upon.] 

6.  That  man  could  discriminate  between  the  straight  forward  testi- 
mony and  the  suborned  evidence. 

7.  All  these  things  dissipate  my  doubts. 

8.  I  have  opposed  this  measure  throughout. 

9.  Tt  is  harsh,  oppressive^  uncalled  foi\  uyjitsl. 


300  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

CXXIIL  —  KING  CANUTE. 

i. 

KING  CANUTE  was  weary-hearted ;  he  had  reigned  foi 
years  a  score, 
Battling,  struggling,  pushing,  fighting,  killing  much  and  rob- 
bing more ; 
And   he  thought  upon  his  actions,  walking  by  the  wild  sea- 
shore. 

ii. 

On  that  day  a  something  vexed  him,  that  was  clear  to  old  and 

young  : 
Thrice  his  Grace  had  yawned  at  table  when  his  favorite  gleemen 

sung. 
Once  the  Queen  would  have  consoled  him,  but  he  bade  her  hold 

her  tongue. 

in. 
"  Something  ails  my  gracious  master,"  cried  the  Keeper  of  the 

Seal. 
"  Sure,  my  lord,  it  is  the  lampreys  served  at  dinner,  or  the 

veal  1 " 
"Pshaw !"  exclaimed  the  angry  monarch.     "  Keeper,  't  is  not  that 

I  feel. 

IV. 

"'T  is  the  heart,  and  not  the  dinner,  fool,  that  doth  my  rest 

impair  : 
Can  a  king  be  great  as  I  am,  prithee,  and  yet  know  no  care  ? 
0,  I  'm   sick,   and  tired,  and  weary."     Some  one  cried,  "  The 

King's  arm-chair  ! " 

v. 

Then  towards  the  lackeys  turning,  quick  my  Lord  the  Keeper 
nodded, 

Straight  the  King's  great  chair  was  brought  him,  by  two  foot- 
men able-bodied. 

Languidly  he  sank  into  it ;  it  was  comfortably  wadded 

VI. 

"  Ah,  I  feel,"  said  old  King  Canute,  "  that  my  enH  is  drawing 
near." 


KING   CANUTE.  301 

11  Don't  say  so,"  exclaimed  the  courtiers  (striving  each  to  squeeze 

a  tear). 
"  Sure  your  Grace  is  strong  and  lusty,  and  may  live  this  fifty 

year." 

VII. 

u  Live  these  fifty  years  !  "  the  Bishop  roared  with  actions  made 

to  suit. 
"  Are  yon  mad,  my  good  Lord  Keeper,  thus  to  speak  of  King 

Canute ! 
Men  have  lived  a  thousand  years,  and  sure  his   Majesty  will 

do't. 

VIII. 

"  With  his  wondrous  skill  in  healing  ne'er  a  doctor  can  compete, 
Loathsome  lepers,  if  he  touch  them,  start  up  clean  upon  their 

feet ; 
Surely  he  could  raise  the  dead  up,  did  his  Highness  think  it 

meet. 

IX. 

"  Did  not  once  the  Jewish  captain  stay  the  sun  upon  the  hill, 
And,  the  while  he  slew  the  foeman,  bid  the  silver  moon  stand 

still  1 
So,  no  doubt,  could  gracious  Canute,  if  it  were  his  sacred  will." 

x. 

"  Might  I  stay  the  sun  above  us,  good  Sir  Bishop]"  Canute  cried ; 
"  Could  I  bid  the  silver  moon  to  pause  upon  her  heavenly  ride  % 
If  the  moon  obeys  my  orders,  sure  I  can  command  the  tide. 

XL 

"  Will  the  advancing  waves  obey  me,  Bishop,  if  I  make  the 

sign  ? " 
Said  the  Bishop,  bowing  lowly,  "  Land  and  sea,  my  lord,  are 

thine." 
Canute  turned  towards  the  ocean.     " Back! "he  said,  "thou 

foaming  brine. 

XII. 

"  From  the  sacred  shore  I  stand  on,  I  command  thee  to  retreat ; 
Venture  not,  thou  stormy  rebel,  to  approach  thy  master's  seat  : 
Ocean,  be  thou  still !  I  bid  thee  come  not  nearer  to  my  feet  !  " 


302  THE  FIFTH  HEADER. 

XIII. 

But  the  sullen  ocean  answered  with  a  louder,  deeper  roar, 
And   the    rapid  waves  drew  nearer,   falling,  sounding  on  the 

shore  ; 
Back  the  Keeper  and  the  Bishop,  back  the  King  and  courtiers 

bore. 

XIV. 

iVnd  he  sternly  bade  them  nevermore  to  bow  to  human  clay, 
But  alone  to  praise  and  worship  That  which  earth  and  seas  obey  • 
And  his  golden  crown  of  empire  never  wore  he  from  that  day. 

Thackeray. 


CXXIV.  — THE  FATE    OF  EUROPEAN  KINGS. 

I  WAS  one  evening  on  the  Ohio,  when  the  river  had 
been  swollen  with  recent  rains.  The  current  was 
passing  quickly,  but  with  the  placidity  which  reminded 
me  of  the  old  proverb,  that  "  smooth  water  runs  deep."  It 
was  early  in  May.  The  sky  was  pale.  Thin  clouds,  with 
softened  outline,  and  mingling  gently  with  one  another, 
were  moving  toward  the  north.  There  was  something  in 
the  air,  which,  if  not  vivifying,  if  not  genial,  was  quieting. 

2.  From  the  various  incidents  that  were  going  on  in 
the  boat  about  me,  and  the  varying  features  of  the  scene 
through  which  we  were  gliding,  I  turned  to  one  object, 
which,  far  more  forcibly  than  the  rest,  attracted  my  atten- 
tion. It  was  a  sycamore,  —  a  noble-looking  tree  ;  noble  in 
its  proportions,  noble  in  its  profusion,  noble  in  its  promise. 

3.  The  birds  were  in  it,  on  its  topmost  branches,  striking 
out  their  wings,  and  uttering  their  quick  notes  of  joy.  0, 
with  what  a  sweet  thrill  came  forth  the  liquid  song  from 
that  waving,  sparkling  foliage  !  and  how  confident  it  made 
the  looker-on,  that  the  tree  from  which  it  gushed  in  a 
thousand  mingling  streams  would  stand,  and  flourish,  and 
put  forth  its  beauty,  and  rejoice  in  the  fragrant  breath  of 
the  summer,  and  stoutly  defy  the  shock  of  the  winter,  for 
years  to  come ! 


THE  FATE  OF  EUROPEAN   KINGS.  303 

4.  It  was  a  dream.  I  looked  downward ;  the  roots  were 
stripped.  The  earth  had  been  loosened  from  them,  and 
they  glistened  like  bones,  w7hitened,  as  they  were,  with  the 
water  which  tumbled  through  them,  and  about  them,  and 
over  them.  One  hold  alone  it  seemed  to  have.  But  the 
sleepless  element  was  busy  upon  that.  Even  while  I 
looked,  the  soft  mold  slipped  in  flakes  from  the  solitary 
stay  which  held  the  tree  erect. 

5.  There  it  stood,  full  of  vigor,  of  beauty,  of  festive 
life ;  full  of  promise,  with  a  grave,  perhaps  fathoms  deep, 
opened  at  its  feet.  The  next  flood,  and  the  last  link  must 
give  way.  And  down  must  come  that  lord  of  the  forest, 
with  all  his  honors,  with  all  his  strength,  with  all  his  mirth ; 
and  the  remorseless  river  shall  toss  him  to  the  thick  slime, 
and  then  fling  him  up  again,  tearing  his  tangled  finery,  and 
bruising  and  breaking  his  proud  limbs,  until,  two  thousand 
miles  below,  on  some  stagnant  swamp,  tired  of  the  dead 
prey,  the  wild  pursuer,  chafed  and  foaming  from  the  chase, 
shall  cast  a  shapeless  log  ashore. 

6.  "  Such,"  said  I,  "  shall  be  the  fate  of  the  European 
kings."  It  is  now  summer  with  them.  Bright  leaves  are  upon 
the  tree,  and  life  and  song  are  among  them ;  but  death  is 
at  the  root.  The  next  flood,  and  the  proud  lord  shall  be 
overthrown,  and  the  waters  shall  bear  him  away  ;  and  when 
they  have  stripped  him  of  his  finery,  they  shall  fling  him 
in  upon  the  swamp  to  rot.  Such  shall  be  the  fate  of  the 
European  kings,  European  aristocracies,  European  despo- 
tisms.    Who  will  lament  it  ?     Who  would  avert  it  ? 

7.  What  though  it  is  now  summer  with  the  kings  ? 
What  though  the  evil  ones  have  been  exalted,  and  the  per- 
jured have  been  named  holy,  and  the  blood  of  the  people 
is  mixed  with  the  wine  of  princes,  and  illuminations  be- 
wilder the  memory  of  those  who  mourn,  and  the  reign  of 
the  wicked  is  a  jubilee,  and  his  powder  supreme  ?  What 
recks  it  ?  It  shall  pass  as  the  dream  of  the  drunkard,  as 
the  crown  of  pride  from  the  drunkard  of  Ephraim. 

T.  F.  Meagher. 


304  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

CXXV .—  COLUMBUS. 

i. 

HOW  in  the  world  did  Columbus  get  over. 
Is  a  pure  wonder  to  nie,  I  protest,  — 
Cabot,  and  Raleigh  too,  that  well-read  rover, 
Frobisher,  Dampier,  Drake  and  the  rest. 
Bad  enough  all  the  same, 
For  them  that  after  came, 
But,  in  great  Heaven's  name, 
How  he  should  ever  think 
That  on  the  other  brink 
Of  this  wild  waste  terra  firma  should  be, 
Is  a  pure  wonder,  I  must  say,  to  me. 

ii. 
How  a  man  ever  should  hope  to  get  thither, 

E'en  if  he  knew  there  was  another  side  ! 
But  to  suppose  he  should  come  any  whither. 
Sailing  straight  on  into  chaos  untried, 
In  spite  of  the  motion, 
Across  the  whole  ocean, 
To  stick  to  the  notion 
That  in  some  nook  or  bend 
Of  a  sea  without  end, 
He  should  find  North  and  South  America, 
Was  a  pure  madness,  indeed  I  must  say. 

in. 
What  if  wise  men  had,  as  far  back  as  Ptolemy, 

Judged  that  the  earth  like  an  orange  was  round, 
None  of  them  ever  said,  "  Come  along,  follow  me ; 
Sail  to  the  West,  and  the  East  will  be  found." 
Many  a  day  before 
Ever  they  'd  come  ashore, 
Sadder  and  wiser  men 
They  'd  have  turned  back  again  ; 
And  that  he  did  not,  but  did  cross  the  sea, 
Is  a  pure  wonder,  I  must  say  to  me. 

Arthur  Hugh  Cloughty* 


CLARIBEL.  305 

CXXVI.  —  CLARIBEL. 


THE  cold  gray  day  clung  shivering  to  the  dreary  hills, 
While  o'er  the  valley  still,  night's  rain-fringed  curtain  fell ; 
But  waking  Blue  Eyes  smiled.  "  'T  is  ever  as  God  wills  ! 
He  knoweth  best ;  and  be  it  rain  or  shine,  't  is  well. 
Praise  God,"  said  always  little  Claribel. 

ii. 

Then  sank  she  on  her  knees,  with  eager  lifted  hands  ; 
Her  rosy  lips  made  haste  some  dear  request  to  tell  : 
"  0  Father,  smile  and  save  this  fairest  of  all  lands, 
And  make  her  free,  whatever  hearts  rebel. 
Amen  !   Praise  God,"  said  little  Claribel. 

in. 

"  And,  Father,"  then  arose  another  pleading  prayer, 
"  0  save  my  brother,  'mid  the  rain  of  shot  and  shell  : 
Let  not  the  death- bolt,  with  its  horrid  streaming  hair, 
Dash  light  from  those  sweet  eyes  I  love  so  wxell ! 
Praise  God,"  said  trembling  little  Claribel. 

IV. 

"  But,  Father,  grant  that  when  the  glorious  fight  is  done, 
And  up  the  crimson  sky  the  shouts  of  freemen  swell, 
Grant  that  there  be  no  nobler  victor  'neath  the  sun, 
Than  he  whose  golden  hair  I  love  so  well. 
Amen  !  Praise  God,"  said  little  Claribel. 


When  gray  and  dreary  day  shook  hands  with  grayer  night, 

The  heavy  air  was  thrilled  with  clangor  of  a  bell  ; 

"  0  shout  !  "  the  herald  cried,  his  worn  eyes  brimmed  with  light. 

"  'T  is  victory  !     0  what  glorious  news  to  tell !  " 

"Amen  !  Praise  God  !  "  cried  little  Claribel. 


306  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

VI. 

"  And,  herald,  tell  me,  was  my  brother  in  the  fight, 
And  in  the  fiery  rain  1     0,  fought  he  brave  and  well  1 " 
"  Dear  child,"  the  herald  said,  "  there  was  no  nobler  sight 
Than  his  young  form,  so  grand  'mid  shot  and  shell." 
"Amen  !  Praise  God  !  "  sobbed  little  Claribel. 

VII. 

"  And  walks  he  now  in  victor's  plumes  of  red, 
While  trumpets'  golden  throats  his  coming  steps  foretell  % " 
The  herald  dropped  a  tear.     "  Dear  child,"  he  softly  said, 
"  Thy  brother  evermore  with  conquerors  shall  dwell." 
"  Praise  God  !     He  heard  my  prayer,"  said  Claribel. 

VIII. 

"  With  conquerors,  we'aring  crowns,  and  bearing  palms,"  he  said. 

A  snow  of  sudden  fear  upon  the  rose  lips  fell. 

"  0  sweetest  herald,  say  my  brother  lives,"  she  plead. 

"  Dear  child,  he  walks  with  angels,  who  in  strength  excel  ; 

Praise  God,  who  gave  this  glory,  Claribel." 

IX. 

The  cold  gray  day  died  sobbing  on  the  weary  hills, 

While  bitter  mourning  on  the  night  wind  rose  and  fell  ; 

"  0  child,"  the  herald  said,  "  't  is  as  the  dear  Lord  wills, 

He  knoweth  best,  and  be  it  life  or  death,  't  is  well." 

"  Amen  !  Praise  God  !"  wept  little  Claribel. 

M,  L.  Parmelee. 


CXXVII.—MOBNING  SOUNDS. 
i. 

BUT  who  the  melodies  of  morn  can  tell  1  — 
The.  wild  brook,  babbling  down  the  mountain's  side ; 
The  lowing  herd ;  the  sheepfold's  simple  bell ; 
The  pipe  of  early  shepherd,  dim  descried 
In  the  lone  valley;  echoing  far  and  wide 
The  clamorous  horn  along  the  cliffs  above ; 
The  hollow  murmur  of  the  ocean-tide  ; 
The  hum  of  bees,  the  linnet's  lay  of  love, 
And  the  full  choir  that  wakes  the  universal  grove. 


AN   APPEAL   TO   ARMS.  307 

II. 
The  cottage  curs  at  early  pilgrim  bark  ; 
Crowned  with  her  pail  the  tripping  milkmaid  sings  ; 
The  whistling  ploughman  stalks  afield ;  and,  hark  ! 
DowTn  the  rough  slope  the  ponderous  wagon  rings ; 
Through  rustling  corn  the  hare  astonished  springs ; 
SlowT  tolls  the  village  clock  the  drowsy  hoar  ; 
The  partridge  bursts  away  on  whirring  wings ; 
Deep  mourns  the  turtle  in  sequestered  bower, 
And  shrill  lark  carols  from  her  aerial  tower. 

James  Bcattie. 


CXXVIIL  —  AN  APPEAL   TO  ARMS. 

MR.  PRESIDENT :  It  is  natural  for  man  to  indulge 
in  the  illusions  of  hope.  We  are  apt  to  shut  our 
eyes  against  a  painful  truth,  and  listen  to  the  song  of  that 
siren  till  she  transforms  us  into  beasts.  Is  this  the  part 
of  wise  men,  engaged  in  a  great  and  arduous  struggle  for 
liberty  ? 

2.  Are  we  disposed  to  be  of  the  number  of  those  who, 
having  eyes,  see  not,  and  having  ears,  hear  not,  the  things 
which  so  nearly  concern  their  temporal  salvation  ?  For 
my  part,  whatever  anguish  of  spirit  it  may  cost,  I  am 
willing  to  know  the  whole  truth  ;  to  know  the  worst,  and 
to  provide  for  it. 

3.  I  have  but  one  lamp  by  which  my  feet  are  guided  : 
and  that  is  the  lamp  of  experience.  I  know  of  no  way  of 
judging  of  the  future  but  by  the  past.  And,  judging  by 
the  past,  I  wish  to  know  what  there  has  been  in  the  con- 
duct of  the  British  ministry  for  the  last  ten  years,  to  jus- 
tify those  hopes  with  which  gentlemen  have  been  pleased 
to  solace  themselves  and  the  house  ? 

4.  Is  it  that  insidious  smile  with  which  our  petition  has 
been  lately  received  ?  Trust  it  not,  sir ;  it  will  prove  a 
snare  to  your  feet.  Suffer  not  yourselves  to  be  betrayed 
with  a  kiss.  Ask  yourselves  how  this  gracious  reception 
of  our  petition  comports  with  those  warlike  preparations 
which  cover  our  waters  and  darken  our  land. 


308  THE  FIFTH   HEADER 

5.  Are  fleets  and  armies  necessary  to  a  work  of  love  and 
reconciliation  ?  Have  we  shown  ourselves  so  unwilling  to 
be  reconciled,  that  force  must  be  called  in  to  win  back  our 
love  ?  Let  us  not  deceive  ourselves,  sir.  These  are  the 
implements  of  war  and  subjugation,  —  the  last  arguments 
to  which  kinirs  resort. 

6.  I  ask  gentlemen,  sir,  what  means  this  martial  array, 
if  its  purpose  be  not  to  force  us  to  submission  ?  Can 
gentlemen  assign  any  other  possible  motive  for  it  ?  Has 
Great  Britain  any  enemy  in  this  quarter  of  the  world,  to 
call  for  all  this  accumulation  of  navies  and  armies  ?  No, 
sir,  she  has  none.  They  are  meant  for  us ;  they  can 
be  meant  for  no  other. 

7.  They  are  sent  over  to  bind  and  rivet  upon  us  those 
chains  which  the  British  ministry  have  been  so  long 
forging.  And  what  have  we  to  oppose  to  them  ?  Shall 
we  try  argument  ?  Sir,  we  have  been  trying  that  for  the 
last  ten  years.  Have  we  anything  new  to  offer  upon  the 
subject  ?  Nothing.  We  have  held  the  subject  up  in  every 
light  of  which  it  is  capable ;  but  it  has  been  all  in  vain. 

8.  Shall  we  resort  to  entreaty  and  humble  supplication  ? 
What  terms  shall  Ave  find,  which  have  not  been  already  ex- 
hausted ?  Let  us  not,  I  beseech  you,  sir,  deceive  ourselves 
longer.  Sir,  we  have  done  everything  that  could  be  done, 
to  avert  the  storm  which  is  now  coming  on.  We  have  pe- 
titioned, we  have  remonstrated,  we  have  supplicated;  we 
have  prostrated  ourselves  before  the  throne,  and  have  im- 
plored its  interposition  to  arrest  the  tyrannical  hands  of  the 
ministry  and  parliament. 

9.  Our  petitions  have  been  slighted  ;  our  remonstrances 
have  produced  additional  violence  and  insult ;  our  suppli- 
cations have  been  disregarded  ;  and  we  have  been  spurned, 
with  contempt,  from  the  foot  of  the  throne.  In  vain,  after 
these  tilings,  may  we  indulge  the  fond  hope  of  peace  and 
reconciliation.     There  is  no  longer  any  room  for  hope. 

10.  If  we  wish  to  be  free  ;  if  we  mean  to  preserve  invi- 
olate those  inestimable  privileges  for  which  we  have  been 


AN   APPEAL  TO   ARMS.  309 

so  Ions?  contending  ;  if  we  mean  not  baselv  to  abandon  the 
noble  struggle  in  which  we  have  been  so  long  engaged,  and 
which  we  have  pledged  ourselves  never  to  abandon  until 
the  glorious  object  of  our  contest  shall  be  obtained,  —  we 
must  fight !  —  I  repeat  it,  sir,  we  must  fight !  An  appeal 
to  arms,  and  to  the  God  of  hosts,  is  all  that  is  left  us. 

11.  They  tell  us,  sir,  that  we  are  weak,  —  unable  to  cope 
with  so  formidable  an  adversary.  But  when  shall  we  be 
stronger?  Will  it  be  the  next  week,  or  the  next  year? 
Will  it  be  when  we  are  totally  disarmed,  and  when  a 
British  guard  shall  be  stationed  in  every  house  ? 

12.  Shall  we  gather  strength  by  irresolution  and  inaction  ? 
Shall  we  acquire  the  means  of  effectual  resistance  by  lying 
supinely  on  our  backs,  and  hugging  the  delusive  phantom 
of  hope,  until  our  enemies  shall  have  bound  us  hand  and 
foot  ? 

13.  Sir,  we  are  not  weak,  if  we  make  a  proper  use  of 
those  means  which' the  God  of  nature  hath  placed  in  our 
power.  Three  millions  of  people,  armed  in  the  holy  cause 
of  Liberty,  and  in  such  a  country  as  that  which  we  possess, 
are  invincible  by  any  force  which  our  enemy  can  send 
against  us. 

14.  Besides,  sir,  we  shall  not  fight  our  battles  alone. 
There  is  a  just  God,  who  presides  over  the  destinies  of 
nations,  and  who  will  raise  up  friends  to  fight  our  battles 
for  us.  The  battle,  sir,  is  not  to  the  strong  alone ;  it  is 
to  the  vigilant,  the  active,  the  brave.  Besides,  sir,  we 
have  no  election.  If  we  were  base  enough  to  desire  it, 
it  is  now  too  late  to  retire  from  the  contest. 

15.  There  is  no  retreat,  but  in  submission  and  slavery! 
Our  chains  are  forged.  Their  clanking  may  be  heard  on 
the  plains  of  Boston  !  The  war  is  inevitable,  —  and  let 
it  come  !  —  I  repeat  it,  sir,  let  it  come  !  It  is  vain,  sir,  to 
extenuate  the  matter.  Gentlemen  may  cry,  Peace,  peace  ! 
but  there  is  no  peace.     The  war  is  actually  begun  ! 

16.  The  next  gale  that  sweeps  from  the  north  will  bring 
to  our  ears  the  clash  of  resounding  arms  ?    Our  brethren  are 


310  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

already  in  the  field  !  Why  stand  we  here  idle  ?  What  is  it 
that  gentlemen  wish  ?  what  would  they  have  ?  Is  life  so 
dear,  or  peace  so  sweet,  as  to  be  purchased  at  the  price  of 
chains  and  slavery  ?  Forbid  it,  Almighty  God.  I  know 
not  what  course  others  may  take,  but,  as  for  me,  give  me 
liberty,  or  give  me  death  !  Patrick  Henry. 


CXXIX.  —  THE  GRAY  SWAM. 

i. 

"  C\  SAIL0R>  tel1  me>  tel1  me  true> 
Vy      Is  my  little  lad  —  my  Elihu  — 

A -sailing  in  your  ship  ] " 
The  sailor's  eyes  were  dimmed  with  dew. 
"  Your  little  lad  ?  your  Elihu  1 " 

He  said  with  trembling  lip  ; 

"  What  little  lad,  —  what  ship  1 " 

ii. 
"  <  What  little  lad  V  —  as  if  there  could  be 
Another  such  a  one  as  he  ! 

'  What  little  lad,'  do  you  say  1 
Why,  Elihu,  that  took  to  the  sea 
The  moment  I  put  him  off  my  knee 

It  was  just  the  other  day 

The  Gray  Swan  sailed  away." 

in. 
"  The  other  day  1 "     The  sailor's  eyes 
Stood  wide-open  with  surprise. 

"  The  other  day  %  —  the  Swan  1 " 
His  heart  began  in  his  throat  to  rise. 
"  Ay,  ay,  sir  ;  here  in  the  cupboard  lies 

The  jacket  he  had  on." 

"  And  so  your  lad  is  gone  ! 

IV. 

11  But,  m}'  good  mother,  do  you  know 
All  this  was  twenty  years  ago  % 
I  stood  on  the  Gray  Swan's  deck, 


THE   GRAY   SWAN.  3H 

And  to  that  lad  I  saw  you  throw  — 
Taking  it  off,  as  it  might  be  so  — 

The  kerchief  from  your  neck." 

"Ay,  and  he  '11  bring  it  back." 

v. 

"  And  did  the  little  lawless  lad, 

That  has  made  you  sick,  and  made  you  sad, 

Sail  with  the  Gray  Swarfs  crew  ]  " 
"  Lawless  !  the  man  is  going  mad  ; 
The  best  boy  ever  mother  had  ; 

Be  sure,  he  sailed  with  the  crew,  — 

What  would  you  have  him  do  % " 

VI. 

"And  he  has  never  written  line, 

Nor  sent  you  word,  nor  made  you  sign, 

To  say  he  was  alive  ?  " 
"Hold,  —  if  't  was  wrong,  the  wrong  is  mine; 
Besides,  he  may  be  in  the  brine  ; 

And  could  he  write  from  the  grave  ? 

Tut,  man  !  what  would  you  have  1 " 

VII. 

"  Gone  twenty  years  !  a  long,  long  cruise ; 
'T  was  wicked  thus  your  love  to  abuse ; 

But  if  the  lad  still  live, 
And  come  back  home,  think  you  you  can 
Forgive  him  1 "     "  Miserable  man  ! 

You  're  mad  as  the  sea  ;  you  rave,  — 

What  have  I  to  forgive '] " 

VIII. 

The  sailor  twitched  his  shirt  of  blue, 

And  from  within  his  bosom  drew  • 

The  kerchief.     She  was  wild  : 
"  My  God  !  —  my  Father  !  —  is  it  true  % 
My  little  lad  —  my  Elihu  % 
And  is  it  —  is  it  —  is  it  you  % 

My  blessed  boy  —  my  child  — 

My  dead  —  my  living  child  !  " 

Alice  Cary 


312  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

CXXX.  —  "PEJSSS  ON." 

THIS  is  a  speech,  brief,  but  full  of  inspiration,  and 
opening  the  way  to  all  victory.  The  mystery  of 
Napoleon's  career  was  this,  —  under  all  difficulties  and 
discouragements,  "  Press  on  !  "  It  solves  the  problem  of 
all  heroes  ;  it  is  the  rule  by  which  to  weigh  rightly  all 
wonderful  successes  and  triumphal  marches  to  fortune  and 
genius.  It  should  be  the  motto  of  all,  old  and  young, 
high  and  low,  fortunate  and  unfortunate,  so  called. 

2.  "  Press  on  ! "  Never  despair  ;  never  be  discouraged, 
however  stormy  the  heavens,  however  dark  the  way  ;  how- 
ever great  the  difficulties,  and  repeated  the  failures,  "  Press 
on!" 

3.  If  fortune  has  played  false  with  thee  to-day,  do  thou 
play  true  for  thyself  to-morrow.  If  thy  riches  have  taken 
wings  and  left  thee,  do  not  weep  thy  life  away ;  but  be  up 
and  doing,  and  retrieve  the  loss  by  new  energies  and  action. 
If  an  unfortunate  bargain  has  deranged  thy  business,  do 
not  fold  thy  arms,  and  give  up  all  as  lost ;  but  stir  thyself 
and  work  the  more  vigorously. 

4  If  those  whom  thou  hast  trusted  have  betrayed  thee, 
do  not  be  discouraged,  do  not  idly  weep,  but  "  Press  on  ! " 
find  others ;  or,  what  is  better,  learn  to  live  within  thyself. 
Let  the  foolishness  of  yesterday  make  thee  wise  to-day. 

5.  If  thy  affections  have  been  poured  out  like  water  in 
the  desert,  do  not  sit  down  and  perish  of  thirst,  but  press 
on  ;  a  beautiful  o'asis  is  before  thee,  and  thou  inayst  reach 
it  if  thou  wilt.  If  another  has  been  false  to  thee,  do  not 
thou  increase  the  evil  by  being  false  to  thyself.  Do  not 
say  the  world  hath  lost  its  poetry  and  beauty  ;  't  is  not  so ; 
and  even  if  it  be  so,  make  thine  own  poetry  and  beauty  by 
a  brave,  a  true,  and  above  all  a  religious  life. 


Explanatory  Notes. 


Page  38. — John  Gr.  Whittier,  one  of  the  foremost  of  American 
poets,  was  born  at  Haverhill,  Mass.,  in  1808.  His  early  education  was 
acquired  at  home,  where  until  his  eighteenth  year  he  worked  on  the 
farm.  He  then  spent  two  years  in  study  at  the  town  academy.  At  the 
age  of  twenty-two  he  became  editor  of  a  newspaper,  and  has  spent  most 
of  his  life  since  in  literary  pursuits.  His  verse  is  distinguished  by  vigor 
and  a  certain  moral  sweetness.  Some  of  his  best  poems  were  written 
in  behalf  of  universal  freedom.  Among  his  best  known  pieces  are 
"Maud  Muller,"  "Barbara  Frietchie"  and  "Snow-Bound." 

Page  1^6. — Jacob  Abbott,  a  popular  writer  of  books  for  children, 
was  born  at  Hallowell,  Maine,  in  1803.  His  "Kollo  Books"  have  de- 
lighted and  instructed  two  generations  of  children,  and,  together  with 
many  of  his  other  writings,  have  been  translated  into  European  lan- 
guages.   He  died  in  1880. 

Page  Ifi. — George  III.  was  the  king  of  England  at  the  time  when  the 
people  of  the  North  American  Colonies  determined  to  govern  themselves. 
A  war  took  place  between  the  Colonies  and  England,  which  is  called  the 
Revolutionary  War,  or  the  Revolution. 

Page  53.— Queen  Elizabeth  was  the  daughter  of  King  Henry 
VIII.,  and  the  half-sister  of  Mary,  who  was  queen  before  her.  She  was 
a  great  sovereign,  and  governed  England  very  wisely  through  a  long 
reign. 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh  was  born  in  England  in  1552,  and  was  be- 
headed, having  been  wrongfully  convicted  of  treason,  in  1618.  He  was 
a  brave  soldier,  an  adventurous  explorer  and  a  wise  writer. 

Page  5^. — Louis  XVI.,  king  of  France,  was  born  in  1754,  and 
ascended  the  throne  at  the  age  of  20.  It  was  during  his  reign  that  the 
French  people,  driven  to  desperation  through  poverty,  hunger  and  op- 
pression, revolted,  and  took  the  government  into  their  own  hands.  Then 
followed  the  fearful  scenes  of  anarchy  and  bloodshed   known  as  the 

312 


314  EXPLANATORY   NOTES. 

French  Revolution.  Louis  XVI.  was  thrown  into  prison ;  and  his  igno- 
rance or  indifference  to  the  wants  of  the  people  was  denominated  treason, 
for  which  he  was  beheaded  at  the  age  of  39. 

Page  57. — Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  was  born  in  Port- 
land, Me.,  in  1807.  He  is  the  most  popular  of  American  poets,  and  his 
writings  are  almost  universally  read  in  England.  For  many  vears  he 
was  professor  of  Belles-Lettres  in  Harvard  College. 

Page  60. — George  William  Curtis  was  born  in  Providence,  R.  L, 
in  1824.  He  is  distinguished  as  a  scholar  and  a  forcible  and  elegant 
writer.  He  is  the  author  of  " The  Potiphar  Papers/'  "Trumps,"  a  novel, 
and  of  many  essays  and  lectures. 

Page  63. — Quebec  is  a  city  on  the  river  St.  Lawrence,  in  Canada,  and, 
Montreal  excepted,  is  the  largest  city  in  British  North  America.  Its 
inhabitants  are  mostly  of  French  descent. 

The  Heights  of  Abraham  is  the  name  given  to  an  elevation  near 
Quebec. 

Page  64. — Samuel  G-.  Goodrich,  better  known  as  Peter  Parley, 
born  at  Ridgefield,  Conn.,  in  1793,  was  a  famous  writer  of  books  for 
children.  His  books  conveyed  much  useful  knowledge  in  the  form  of 
agreeable  and  interesting  stories.  Of  his  Geography  for  Beginners  three 
million  copies  were  soldo     He  died  in  1863. 

Page  66. — James  Merrick,  an  English  clergyman,  was  born  in 
1720,  and  died  in  1769. 

Page  67. — The  Housatonic  is  a  river  in  Connecticut. 
Sevastopol,  a  Russian  fortress  situated  on  an  inlet  of  the  Black 

Sea. 

Page  69.— Greylock  is  a  high  mountain  in  Berkshire  county,  Mass. 

The  Barometer  is  an  instrument  used  for  determining  the  pressure 
of  the  atmosphere,  the  state  of  which  indicates  the  coming  weather. 

Henry  Ward  Beecher,  perhaps  the  most  famous  preacher  of  his 
day,  was  born  at  Litchfield,  Conn.,  Jan.  24,  1813.  He  was  the  son  of 
Rev.  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher,  and  the  brother  of  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe. 
In  1847  he  became  pastor  of  the  Plymouth  Church,  in  Brooklyn,  N.  Y., 
and  still  holds  that  position.  He  was  a  dull  boy,  and  gave  no  promise 
of  future  eminence,  but  he  now  wields  a  greater  influence  than  any  other 
clergyman  in  the  country. 

Page  72. — Henry  Knox  was  born  in  Boston  in  1750.  He  fought 
through  the  Revolutionary  war,  and  became  general  of  artillery.  He 
was  one  of  Washington's  most  trusted  friends.     He  died  in  1806. 


EXPLANATORY   NOTES.  315 

Page  7^.— Nathaniel  Hawthorne  was  born  in  Salem,  Mass.,  in 
1804.  He  graduated  at  Bowdoin  College  in  1825,  Henry  Wadsworth 
Longfellow  and  President  Pierce  being  members  of  his  class.  He  early 
turned  his  attention  to  literature;  but  his  first  efforts  received  little 
encouragement.  In  1850  his  "  Scarlet  Letter  n  was  published  and  at  once 
made  him  famous.  By  that  book,  "  The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables," 
"The  Marble  Faun"  and  "Our  Old  Home" — a  series?  of  sketches  of 
English  subjects — his  title  to  the  first  place  among  American  writers  of 
romance  was  amply  confirmed.  His  "Twice-Told  Tales"  and  "Mosse* 
from  an  Old  Manse"  are  especially  attractive  to  young  readers.  He 
died  at  the  age  of  59. 

Page  76.-Thom.SbS  Bailey  Aldrich,  an  American  poet,  born  at 
Portsmouth,  N.  H.,  1836. 

Page  77. — Victor  Hugo  is  a  famous  French  novelist.  In  one  of 
his  books,  "Les  Miserables,"  he  describes  the  passage  of  a  fugitive 
through  the  sewers  of  Paris. 

Page  82. — Sherwood  was  a  vast  forest  in  England,  frequented, 
according  to  tradition,  by  Eobin  Hood  and  his  men,  a  romantic  band 
of  robbers. 

Page  81*. — Robert  Dodsley,  a  bookseller,  was  born  near  Mansfield, 
England,  in  1709.  He  wrote  several  tragedies,  and  was  the  friend  of  Dr. 
Johnson  and  other  eminent  literary  men. 

Rev.  Richard  Chenevix  Trench,  an  eminent  English  divine 
and  writer,  was  born  in  1807. 

Page  85. — Robert  Bruce,  king  of  Scots,  was  born  in  1274.  He 
waged  war  for  many  years  against  the  English,  who  claimed  the  sove- 
reignty of  Scotland.     He  died  in  1329. 

Page  86.— Lord  James  of  Douglas  and  Edward  Bruce  were 
two  friends  of  King  Robert  Bruce. 

Page 89. — "Dexter"  was  a  famous  trotting  horse. 

Pegasus  is  the  fabled  steed  which  poets  were  supposed  to  ride  when 
composing  verses. 

Seven-league  boots  have  existence  only  in  fairy  stories.  They 
were  said  to  enable  their  wearer  to  walk  at  prodigious  speed. 

Page  91. — Richard  S.  S.  Andros  was  a  native  of  Berkley,  Mass. 
He  wrote  a  few  poems  of  marked  merit. 

Page  95. — Malibran,  a  famous  singer  and  actress,  was  born  in  Paris, 
in  1808,  and  died  in  1836. 


316  EXPLANATORY   NOTES. 

Page  100.— J.  T.  Trowbridge  is  a  native  of  Monroe  county,  N.  Y., 
and  was  born  in  1827.  He  wrote  "Neighbor  Jack  wood,"  "  The  Vaga- 
bonds," etc.,  and  many  popular  stories  for  young  readers,  among  which 
are  the  "  Brighthope  "  and  "Jack  Hazard"  series. 

Page  101. — Cologne,  a  perfumed  liquid,  so  named  because  it  was 
originally  made  in  Cologne,  Germany. 

Page  102. — Macbeth  is  one  of  Shakespeare's  plays. 
Banquo  is  the  name  of  a  character  in  the  same,  whose  ghost  is  sr 
posed  to  appear. 

Page  103. — Louisa  M.  Alcott.  one  of  the  most  popular  writers  of 
the  day,  is  a  native  of  Concord,  Mass.,  and  the  daughter  of  A.  Bronsor 
Alcott.  She  is  the  author  of  "  Little  Women,"  "  Little  Men,"  "  An  Old- 
Fashioned  Girl,"  etc.,  which  have  had  a  wide  circulation,  and  are  uni- 
versally admired  for  their  brightness  and  naturalness. 

Charles  Mackay,  a  British  author,  was  born  at  Perth  in  1812, 
He  has  published  several  volumes  of  poems  and  songs,  some  of  which 
have  attained  great  popularity. 

Page  105. — James  Anthony  Froude,  the  historian,  was  born  in 
Devonshire,  England,  in  1818,  and  graduated  at  Oxford  University.  His 
"History  of  England  from  the  Fall  of  Wolsey  to  the  Death  of  Eliza- 
beth" is  a  work  of  great  merit. 

Page  107.— Lord  Cornwallis  commanded  the  British  army  that 
surrendered  to  Gen.  Washington  at  Yorktown,  Va.,  in  October,  1781. 
With  this  event  the  Revolutionary  war  ended. 

Page  108. — "William  Wirt,  a  distinguished  lawyer  and  statesman, 
was  born  at  Bladensburg,  Md.,  in  1772.  He  was  Attorney-General  of 
the  United  States  from  1817  to  1829.  His  principal  literary  work  was 
the  Life  of  Patrick  Henry,  one  of  the  earliest  and  ablest  American 
patriots.     He  died  in  1834. 

Page  109. — "  Pinta"  and  "  Saint  Maria"  were  the  names  of  twe 
of  Columbus's  vessels. 

Castile  is  the  name  of  a  province  which  forms  a  part  of  the  king* 
dom  of  Spain. 

Page  113.— James  Gates  Percival  was  born  in  Berlin,  Conn.,  in 
1795.     He  was  eminent  in  science  and  literature. 

Page  ll^. — Theodore  Hook,  a  novelist  and  wit,  was  born  in  London, 
in  1788.  His  contributions  to  literature  were  short-lived,  and  to-da;? 
are  almost  forgotten.     He  died  in  1841. 


EXPLANATORY    NOTES.  317 

Page  US. — Nebo  is  a  mountain  in  Palestine. 

Jordan  is  a  river  of  Asiatic  Turkey,  and  forms  the  eastern  boundary 
of  Palestine. 

Page  119. — Eyry  is  the  name  of  an  eagle's  nest. 

Cerla  Frances  Alexander  is  the  wife  of  a  clergyman  residing  a 
Strabane,  in  Ireland.  She  is  the  authoress  of  several  beautiful  hymns 
and  sacred  songs. 

Page  120. — George  Bancroft,  the  historian,  was  born  at  Worcester, 
Mass.,  in  1800.  His  greatest  work  is  a  History  of  the  United  States  in 
ten  volumes,  to  the  preparation  of  which  he  devoted  more  than  thirty 
years  of  labor. 

Ethan  Allen  was  a  commander  of  American  troops  in  the  Kevolu- 
rionary  war,  and  the  captor  of  Ticonderoga,  which  was  a  fort  on  the 
west  shore  of  Lake  Champlain,  in  the  State  of  New  York.  The  once 
famous  fortifications  are  now  in  ruins. 

Page  122. — Florence  Fercy  is  the  pen-name  of  Mrs.  Elizabeth 
Akers  Allen,  a  native  of  Maine.  She  is  the  author  of  "Rock  me  to 
Sleep,  Mother,5'  and  many  other  popular  poems. 

Page  128. — Don  Gomez  was  a  minister  of  Spain  at  the  time  of 
Columbus's  discovery  of  America  in  1492. 

The  Tagns  is  the  principal  river  of  Portugal. 

Page  121/,.— Genoa  is  a  large  seaport  city  in  Italy. 

Vinet  was  one  of  the  literary  names  of  Epes  Sargent,  a  Bostonian, 
best  known  as  the  compiler  of  an  excellent  series  of  school  reading-books. 
He  had  also  a  reputation  as  a  poet  and  novelist.     He  died  in  1880. 

Page  125. — James  Henry  Leigh  Hjint  was  born  near  London  in 
1784.     He  was  a  genial  poet  and  an  able  critic.     He  died  in  1859. 

Page  128. — The  Dee  is  a  river  in  Scotland. 

Page  129. — Krilof,  a  celebrated  writer  of  fables,  was  born  in  Kussk, 
in  1768,  and  died  in  1844. 

Page  131. — Solomon  was  an  ancient  king  noted  for  his  wisdom. 

Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  was  a  famous  English  author  who  lived  in 
the  last  century.  He  compiled  a  Dictionary  of  the  English  language, 
and  wrote  many  books,  one  of  the  best  of  which  is  "  Kasselas." 

Hampstead  is  a  suburb  of  London. 

Galileo  was  an  astronomer  who  first  discovered  that  the  earth  moved 
around  the  sun. 

Pisa  is  a  city  in  Tuscany,  Italy,  famous  for  its  Leaning  Tower 


318  EXPLANATORY   NOTES. 

Sir  Samuel  Brown  was  a  celebrated  civil  engineer. 

The  Tweed  is  a  large  river  partly  in  England  and  partly  in  Scot- 
land, near  the  border  line  between  the  two  countries. 

James  "Watt,  an  Englishman,  was  born  in  1736.  He  is  generally 
credited  with  the  invention  of  the  steam-engine.     He  died  in  1819. 

The  Clyde  is  one  of  the  principal  rivers  of  Scotland. 

Page  132. — The  Thames  Tunnel  is  a  passage-way  constructed 
beneath  the  waters  of  the  river  Thames  in  London. 

Samuel  Smiles  is  a  native  of  Haddington,  Scotland,  and  was  born 
in  1816.  He  is  the  author  of  several  very  valuable  books,  including 
"  Self-Help/'  "Character,"  and  "The  Life  of  George  Stephenson/' 

Page  133. — Fitz- James  and  Roderick  are  personages  who  figure 
in  Sir  Walter  Scott's  poem,  "The  Lady  of  the  Lake."  The  former  was 
the  assumed  name  of  the  Scottish  king. 

Page  135. — Richard  H.  Dana  was  born  at  Cambridge,  Mass.,  in 
1815.  In  early  life  he  was  a  sailor,  and  wrote  a  book  called  "  Two 
Years  Before  the  Mast,"  which  is  a  very  entertaining  and  instructive 
narrative  of  life  at  sea. 

Page  137. — Mrs.  Felicia  Hemans  was  born  in  Liverpool,  Eng- 
land, in  1794.     She  wrote  many  poems  of  great  and  thoughtful  beauty. 

Page  138.— Charles  Sprague  was  born  in  Boston  in  1791.  He  is 
best  known  as  the  author  of  an  ode  on  Shakespeare,  "  The  Winged  Wor- 
shippers" and  other  poems.     He  died  in  1875. 

Page  139. — Helvellyn  is  a  mountain  in  Cumberland.  It  is  one  of 
the  highest  peaks  in  England. 

A  lake  is  called  a  "  tarn  "  in  the  Scottish  highlands. 

Page  11^0. — William  "Wordsworth,  one  of  the  greatest  of  English 
poets,  was  born  in  Cumberland,  England,  in  1770,  and  died  in  1850. 

Page  11+5.— T.  B.  Aldrich.  See  note  to  page  76.  The  "  Story  of  a 
Bad  Boy,"  from  which  this  extract  is  made,  is  an  excellent  book  for  the 
young. 

Page  150.—  Horace  Smith,  a  writer  of  humorous  prose  and  verse, 
was  born  in  London  in  1780.  He  and  his  brother  James  wrote  "  .Rejected 
Addresses." 

Page  153.— Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  was  born  at  Litchfield, 
Conn.,  in  1812.  She  is  the  author  of  many  books,  the  most  famous  of 
which  is  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  She  is  the  daughter  of  Rev.  Dr 
Lyman  Beecher,  and  the  sister  of  Henry  Ward  Beecher. 


EXPLANATORY   NOTES.  319 

Page  15J/.-  William  Tell  was  a  Switzer  (Swiss)  patriot  who  resisted 
the  Austrian  tyrant  Gesier. 

Page  156. — Murillo  and  Sebastian  were  famous  painters  of  Seville, 
one  of  the  chief  cities  of  Spain. 

Page  162. — Ascott  R.  Hope  is  an  Englishman,  and  a  teacher  oy 
profession.  He  has  written  several  books,  including  "A  Book  about 
Boys"  and  "A  Book  about  Dominies." 

Friedrich  Adolf  Krummacher,  born  in  Westphalia,  Germany^ 
in  1768,  was  a  distinguished  theologian,  and  wrote  many  religious  poems 
for  children. 

Page  16 Jf. — Fanny  Fern  (Sarah  Payson  Willis)  was  born  in  Port- 
land, Maine,  in  1811,  and  died  in  1873.  She  was  a  sister  of  N.  P.  Willis, 
the  poet.  She  was  twice  married,  her  second  husband  being  James  Par- 
ton,  the  writer.  She  wrote  " Fern  Leaves,"  "Little  Ferns/'  "Kuth 
Hall,"  and  other  books,  which  have  been  very  popular. 

Rev.  John  Pierpont  was  born  in  Litchfield,  Conn.,  in  1785.  He 
was  first  a  lawyer,  then  a  clergyman,  was  an  active  reformer,  and  a  poet 
of  good  reputation. 

G-en.  Joseph  "Warren,  an  eminent  patriot  of  the  Kevolutionary 
war,  was  killed  in  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill.  This  hill  is  in  Charlestown, 
Mass. 

Page  165. — Edinburgh  is  the  capital  and  most  famous  city  in  Scot- 
land. 

Jacobite  was  the  name  given  the  supporters  of  James,  called  the 
Pretender,  who  claimed  the  right  to  the  throne  of  England  in  1745. 

Holyrood  House  was  in  ancient  times  the  principal  royal  edifice 
in  Edinburgh. 

Page  168.— Alfred  Tennyson,  Poet  Laureate  of  England,  waa 
born  in  1807.  His  "  Idyls  of  the  King"  are  esteemed  his  finest  compo- 
sitions. 

Page  173. — Timothy  S.  Arthur  was  born  in  Newburg,  N.  Y.,  in 
1809,  but  for  many  years  has  lived  in  Philadelphia,  He  is  a  favorite 
among  young  readers  as  the  author  of  "  Lights  and  'shadow*  of  Keal 
Life,"  "  Tales  for  Kich  and  Poor,"  etc. 

Page  17 Jf. — Hartley  Coleridge  was  the  eldest  son  of  the  celebrated 
English  poet  and  philosopher  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge.  He  wrote 
good  verse  and  better  prose.  As  a  writer  of  verse  he  is  best  known  by 
his  sonnets,  which  are  very  highly  esteemed. 

Page  175.—"  The  Thirty-nine  Articles"  was  the  name  given  to 


320  EXPLANATORY   NOTES. 

the  tenets,  or  points  of  belief,  on  which  the  organization  of  the  Church 
of  England  was  based. 

The  "  thirteen  farms  "  refers  to  the  thirteen  States  which  originally 
constituted  the  American  Union. 

Page  177.— James  K.  Paulding  was  born  in  Pawling,  N.  Y.,  in 
1779.     He  wrote  poems  and  novels,  and  a  Life  of  Washington. 

Page  178.— Miss  Caroline  F.  Orne,  a  resident  of  Cambridge,  Mass., 
has  written  a  volume  of  poems  called  "  Sweet  Auburn,  and  other  Poems." 

Page  179.— Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson,  a  native  of  Massa- 
chusetts, is  one  of  the  most  cultivated  and  elegant  of  American  writers. 
He  is  best  known  as  an  essayist,  and  is  the  author  of  "  Out-Door  Papers," 
"Atlantic  Essays,"  etc. 

Ceylon  is  a  large  island  in  the  Indian  Ocean  which  belongs  to  Great 
Britain.     Kandy  is  its  principal  seaport. 

Page  188.— Josiah  Gilbert  Holland,  M.  D.,  was  born  in  Belcher- 
town,  Mass.,  in  1819.  He  has  written  a  good  deal  over  the  assumed 
name  of  "  Timothy  Titcomb.',  Among  his  books  are  "  Bitter-Sweet,"  a 
poem,  and  a  "  Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln." 

Page  186.— Thomas  Day  was  born  in  London  in  1748,  and  died  in 
1789.  He  was  the  author  of  many  poems  and  stories,  the  best  of  which 
is  "The  History  of  Sanford  and  Merton,"  which  has  been  read  and  ad- 
mired by  many  generations  of  children. 

Page   187. — Sheba   was   a   kingdom   in    Asia,  in    Solomon's   time, 
famous  for  its  riches. 
The  Talmud  is  the  Jewish  Bible. 

Page  189. — John  G-.  Saxe  was  born  in  Highgate,  Vt.,  in  1816. 
He  is  the  author  of  "  Proud  Miss  McBride,"  and  other  humorous  poems. 

Page  192.— George  MacDonald  is  a  native  of  Scotland,  and  a 
clergyman.  He  is  a  poet  and  novelist.  Among  his  books  are  "  David 
Elginbrod"  and  "Wilfrid  Cumbermede." 

Page  195.— Thomas  Hughes  was  born  in  Berkshire,  England, 
in  1823.  He  is  the  author  of  "Torn  Brown's  School  Days,"  one  of 
the  best  books  for  boys  ever  written,  and  of  "Tom  Brown  at  Oxford." 

Rugby  is  a  famous  school  in  England,  of  which  Dr.  Arnold  was 
formerly  master.     Leicester  is  a  neighboring  town. 

Page  205.-11.  H.  Newell  ("Orpheus  C.  Kerr")(:'v  a  New  York 
journalist,  and  a  writer  of  humorous  prose  and  verse.     »>■ 

Page  213—K.ing  George—  See  note  to  page  48. 


EXPLANATORY   NOTES.  321 

Page  21J+. — Gen.  Joseph  Warren  was  an  American  patriot,  born 
in  Koxbury,  Mass.,  in  1741,  and  killed  in  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill, 
June  17,  1775. 

Samuel  Adams  (born  1722)  and  John  Hancock  (born  1737) 
were  active  promoters  of  the  resistance  to  British  tyranny  which  led  to 
the  Revolutionary  war. 

The  Old  South  is  a  church  on  Washington  street,  Boston. 

Page  217. — Samuel  Burnham  was  born  in  New  Hampshire,  about 
1830,  and  graduated  at  Williams  College.  He  wrote  much  for  periodi- 
cals, but  published  no  books.     He  died  in  1873. 

Demosthenes,  believed  to  be  the  greatest  orator  that  ever  lived, 
was  born  at  Athens,  Greece,  b.  c.  382. 

Philip,  King  of  Macedon,  waged  long  wars  against  Athens. 

Tully  is  one  of  the  names  of  Cicero,  the  famous  Roman  orator,  who 
was  born  106  b.  c. 

Catiline  was  a  Roman  noble  (born  108  B.  c.)  who  plotted  against  the 
government. 

Page  218.— "William  Allen  Butler  was  born  in  Albany,  N.  Y.,  in 
1825.  He  is  the  author  of  several  satirical  poems,  the  best  known  of 
which  is  "  Nothing  to  Wear." 

Page  219. — Lexington,  a  town  in  Middlesex  county,  Mass.,  and 
twelve  miles  from  Boston,  was  the  scene  of  the  first  battle  or  skirmish  in 
the  Revolutionary  war. 

Major  Pitcairn  commanded  the  British  troops,  and  Capt.  Parker 
the  undisciplined  farmers  who  confronted  them. 

Page  221.— The  story  of  David  and  Goliath,  as  told  in  the  Bible, 
is  familiar  to  all. 

Philistia  was  the  country  of  Goliath,  and  Dagon  was  a  god  wor- 
shiped by  his  countrymen. 

Page  222. — Hannah  More  was  born  in  England  in  1745.  She 
wrote  plays,  poems  and  essays. 

Page  226. — Charles  Dickens,  the  most  famous  novelist  of  his 
time,  was  born  at  Portsmouth,  England,  in  1812,  and  died  in  1870.  He 
was  the  author  of  "  The  Pickwick  Papers,"  "  Oliver  Twist/'  "  Nicholas 
Nickleby,"  "David  Copperfield,"  etc. 

Page  231. — "Washington  Irving'  was  born  in  New  York  city  in 
1783.  He  was  one  of  the  earliest  and  one  of  the  most  distinguished  of 
American  a>  Aors.  His  best-known  books  are  "  The  Life  of  Christopher 
Columbus/'  '  The  Life  of  Washington,"  "  Knickerbocker's  History  of 
New  York,"  and  "The  Sketch  Book."     He  died  in  1S59. 

21 


322  EXPLANATORY   NOTES. 

Logan  was  a  Scotch  clergyman,  eminent  as  a  poet,  theologian  and 
philosopher.     He  was  born  in  1748,  and  died  in  1788. 

Platsea  was  a  city  of  ancient  Greece.  In  the  year  479  b.  c.  it  was 
the  scene  of  a  glorious  victory  won  by  the  Greeks  over  the  Persians. 

Page  282— Fitz- Greene  Halleck  was  born  in  Guilford,  Conn.,  in 
1790.  He  was  one  of  the  earliest  American  writers,  and  was  very  pop- 
ular in  his  day. 

The  Suliotes  were  a  tribe  of  Greeks  who  were  active  in  their  resist- 
ance to  the  Turks  in  the  Greek  war  for  independence. 

Bozzaris  (pronounced  Bot-sarMs  or  Boz-zar/-is)  was  their  leader. 

Moslem  is  a  name  applied  to  the  Turks,  who  are  followers  of  Mo- 
hammed. 

Page  287.— Hans  Christian  Andersen  was  born  in  Funen,  Den- 
mark, in  1805.  He  was  one  of  the  most  gifted  and  successful  of  writers 
of  books  for  the  young.  His  "  Wonder  Stories  "  and  u  The  Story  of  nry 
Life"  are  prime  favorites  with  children.     He  died  in  1875. 

Page  288.— Rev.  James  Hurdis  was  born  in  England  in  1763 
He  wrote  "The  Village  Curate"  and  other  poems. 

British  fugitives  were  persons  who,  during  the  Revoliitionar) 
war,  sympathizing  with  Great  Britain,  left  the  United  States,  and  de 
sired  to  return  at  the  close  of  the  war. 

Page  2^0. — Patrick  Henry,  one  of  the  first  of  American  patriots, 
was  born  in  Virginia  in  1736.  He  was  a  great  orator,  and  did  much 
to  encourage  Americans  in  resistance  to  British  tyranny. 

Page  2J/.6. — Janiculum  was  a  gate  in  the  wall  of  Rome. 

Consul.  At  one  time  the  government  of  ancient  Rome  was  vested 
in  a  consul,  whose  position  was  not  unlike  that  of  the  President  of  the 
United  States. 

Ramnian  and  Tatian  were  names  applied  to  two  different  tribes 
of  Romans.  • 

Page  21ft. — Etruria  was  a  region  of  Italy. 

Page  2^8. — Palatinus  was  the  name  of  a  hill. 
The  Tiber  is  a  river  which  flows  through  Rome. 

Page  249.— Thomas  Babington  Macaulay  (afterward  Baron 
Macaulay)  was  born  in  England  in  1800.  He  was  one  of  the  greatest 
of  English  writers,  was  a  poet,  essayist  and  a  historian.  He  died  in  1859. 

Page  258.— Charles  Swain,  known  as  the  "  Manchester  poet,"  was 
born  in  that  city  (England)  in  1803.  He  wrote  several  volumes  of 
poetry,  the  best  of  which  is  "  Dryburgh  Abbey."    He  died  in  1874. 


EXPLANATORY    NOTES.  323 

Corn-wall  is  the  name  borne  by  a  certain  part  of  England,  and 
Cornish  is  the  adjective  belonging  to  it,  as  Virginian  is  the  adjective 
of  Virginia. 

Page  ^.—Thomas  Carlyle  was  born  in  Scotland  in  1795.  He 
was  one  of  the  ablest  and  most  famous  writers  of  the  century.  His  "  His- 
tory of  the  French  Revolution"  and  his  "  Life  of  Frederick  the  Great" 
are  considered  his  best  works.     He  died  in  1881. 

Page  255. — Benjamin  P.  Shillaber  is  a  native  of  Portsmouth, 
N.  H.,  and  a  writer  of  humorous  prose  and  verse.  He  is  widely  known 
as  "  Mrs.  Partington." 

Page  259. — The  Lively,  Falcon  and  Cerberus  were  vessels  of  the 
British  fleet  which  lay  in  the  harbor  during  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill. 

Col.  Prescott  was  commander  of  the  American  troops,  and  Israel 
Putnam,  afterward  general,  was  an  officer  in  the  same  action. 

Page  261. — Frederick  S.  Cozzens  was  born  in  New  York  in  1818. 
His  principal  contribution  to  literature  was  "The  Sparrowgrass  Papers." 

Page  262. — The  Azores  is  the  name  given  to  a  group  of  islands  in 
the  Atlantic  Ocean.     They  are  sometimes  called  the  Western  Islands. 

Page  264. — Joel  T.  Headley  was  born  in  Delaware  county,  N.  Y., 
in  1814.  He  is  the  author  of  "  Napoleon  and  his  Marshals,"  a  "  Life 
of  Oliver  Cromwell,"  etc. 

Page  265. — Marmion  and  Douglas  are  characters  in  the  poem  of 
"  Marmion,"  which  treats  of  events  in  Scotland  that  immediately  pre- 
ceded the  famous  battle  of  Flodden,  in  which  the  Scotch  were  defeated 
by  the  English. 

Tantallon  was  the  castle  of  Douglas. 

Page  266. — Sir  Walter  Scott  was  born  in  Edinburgh,  Scotland,  in 
1771.  He  was  one  of  the  best  writers  of  fiction  that  ever  lived,  and  was 
also  distinguished  as  a  poet.    He  died  in  1832. 

Page  27 Jf. — John  Clare,  son  of  a  poor  peasant,  was  born  in  England 
in  1793.  He  had  no  school  education,  but  he  wrote  poems,  chiefly  in 
praise  of  nature,  that  have  been  warmly  admired. 

Page  280.— Wm.  E.  Aytoun  was  born  in' Scotland  in  1813.  He 
was  a  poet  and  critic.    His  best  work  is  "  Lays  of  the  Scottish  Cavaliers." 

Page  28Jf. — Fitz-James  O'Brien,  a  native  of  Ireland,  came  to  this 
country  when  quite  young,  and  devoting  himself  to  literature,  became 
famous  as  a  poet  and  writer  of  short  stories.  He  was  killed  in  battle 
during  the  war  of  the  Eebellion. 


324  EXPLANATORY   NOTES. 

Page  287.— The  royal  family  who  had  occupied  the  French  throne 
for  hundreds  of  years  before  the  French  Revolution  of  1793  were  called 
Bourbons.  After  the  defeat  of  Napoleon  at  Waterloo  one  of  them 
reiiscended  the  throne,  and  his  return  was  called  the  Restoration. 

Page  289.— Joseph.  C.  Neal  was  born  in  Greenland,  N.  H.,  in 
1807,  and  died  in  1847.  He  was  the  author  of  "Charcoal  Sketches ,? 
and  other  humorous  books. 

Page  290.— Gen.  Robert  B.  Lee  was  commander-in-chief  of  the 
Confederate  troops  during  the  war  of  the  Rebellion. 

Gen.  Thomas  J.  Jackson  (usually  called  " Stonewall")  was  one 
of  his  principal  officers. 

Page  294—Hev.  Edward  Nares  was  born  in  London  in  1762. 
His  principal  work  was  a  novel  called  "  Thinks  I  to  Myself." 

Page  297.— Matthew  Arnold,  a  son  of  Dr.  Arnold  of  Rugby,  was 
born  in  1822.     He  is  a  poet  and  essayist. 

Thomas  Moore  was  born  in  Dublin,  Ireland,  in  1799.  He  wrote  a 
great  number  of  poems,  including  "  Irish  Melodies"  and  "  Lalla  Rookh." 

Page  298. — The  Irish  Disturbance  Bill  was  an  act  introduced  in 
the  British  Parliament  for  the  purpose  of  securing  better  order  in  Ire- 
land, where  men  were  lawless  and  violent. 

Page  299. — Daniel  O'Connell  was  a  famous  Irish  patriot. 

Page  302.— William  Makepeace  Thackeray  was  born  in  Cal- 
cutta in  1811.  He  wrote  several  novels,  "Vanity  Fair,"  "  Pendennis," 
etc.,  which  rank  among  the  best  in  the  language.     He  died  in  1833. 

Page  308.— Thomas  Francis  Meagher  was  born  in  Waterford, 
Ireland,  in  1823.  He  came  to  the  United  States  in  1852,  and  was  a  gen- 
eral in  the  Union  army  during  the  war  of  the  Rebellion. 

Page  30J+.— Arthur  Hugh  Clough  was  born  at  Liverpool,  Eng- 
land, in  1819.     He  was  a  poet  of  rare  powers.     He  died  in  1861. 

Sebastian  Cabot,  Francis  Drake,  Dampier  and  Frobisher 
were  bold  adventurers  of  the  sixteenth  century  who  crossed  the  Atlantic 
and  visited  America. 

Ptolemy  was  the  earliest  geographer. 

Page  307.— James  Beattie  was  a  Scottish  poet,  born  in  1735.  He 
was  the  author  of  "The  Minstrel"  and  other  poems. 

Page  311. — Alice  Cary  was  born  near  Cincinnati,  O.,  in  1822.  She 
wrote  much  in  prose  and  verse,  and  ranked  among  the  best  female  poets 
of  America.    Her  sister  Phcebe  also  wrote  poetry. 


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